


For Now I'm Winter

by LadyBee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Dark Arya, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Magic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I'm Going to Hell, Incest, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 87,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6867823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBee/pseuds/LadyBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The flames sung a song of their own and danced in the cold winter night casting shadows upon each face. <br/>The Red Priestess turned to face the pyre, to face a dead man burning, but what she saw made her fall on her knees praising her Red God.<br/>A man surrounded by flames. Not dead and not burning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Melissandre

At first there was a commotion in the courtyard and then chaos raged over Black Castle like a storm. She could hear the princess crying while trying to hide behind her mother, who was as much afraid and hysterical as her daughter. Fools, the whole lot of them. 

The red priestess lighted her fire. If only the boy had listened to me. But he never heard to a single word she said, not after her crucial mistake about a grey girl on a dying horse. The little sister that never came. Arya Stark was Melissandre’s gravest mistake, Jon Snow’s doom and if no one took the Wall and got the wildling under control, soon she would be the end of the Night’s Watch itself. 

Tormund had gutted Bowen Marsh with his own hands and soon all of his men were clashing swords against dark shields. They never understood a word about the wildling, despite the Lord Commander’s best efforts, nor even Melissandre and her fires. He was right about something. They would never kneel to a king, or a cause, unless they could respect it. They never kneel to King Stannis, to the Night’s Watch or even to the Lord Commander. They kneel to a clever and cunning boy named Jon Snow, and now that the boy was dead there was about four thousand wilding warriors at the Wall and none of them had much love for the men in black or the Southern King. 

While the screaming in the courtyard grew and the sounds of the slaughter filled the night, the Red Priestess lighted her fire in an effort to foresee the end of such a bloodbath. A glimpse of her king and light’s champion, who was taught to be dead by the hands of Bolton’s men, a flash of light and hope maybe. Anything that could tell her that they would all be alive by the end of such a dreadful night. ‘Couse the night is dark and full of terrors, indeed. 

The flames danced before her, casting shadows at the wall of her chamber, while both queen and princess hanged at each other in a fool attempt of protection. 

“What do you see, lady Melissandre?” The queen asked in a childish and desperate tone. “Do you see my husband, the king? Is he alive?!” 

She prayed for a sign. She prayed and asked R’hllor to show her Azor Ahai reborn, but nothing came. Only darkness and cold. Only knifes in the night, blood and treason. Snow stained with blood and then a funeral pyre. A man in flames, but never getting burned by them. His sword glowing, his armor made of ice. 

A howl cut the night like a knife distracting her from her fire. A lonely wolf howling in the woods. A Ghost hunts this place, and soon there will be corpses enough to secure him a banquet. The wolf growled this time, and by the sound of screams and shouts, she guessed that the beast had joined the fight to avenge his master’s death. 

Not his master, his other half is more likely. 

“What do you see?!” The queen shouted again and Melissandre smiled lightly. 

“I see salvation.” 

Dawn came and with it came silence. Someone knock at the door of the priestess chamber. The queen fell asleep, holding the princess Shreene in her arms. She looks like a mother at least. Her steward opened the door giving passage to a young man. Jon Snow’s steward. The boy whore they called Satin. 

The beauty of his youthful face had been severely beaten. His eye were bruised and swollen, his lip cut and he couldn’t walk properly. He was alive at least and that was enough luck for anyone in Castle Black. He bowed clumsily to her. 

“What news you bring?” She asked right away. 

“The Lord Commander, Jon Snow, is dead. Treason, my lady. Killed by his own men. The wildlings rebelled and now there’re very few men of the Night’s Watch.” Nothing she didn’t know. 

“How many dead?” 

“So far we counted eighty or near enough to make no difference, but I’m afraid that this number will keep rising. A few queen’s men were killed to.” The boy answered modestly. “I was sent here to ask my lady to perform the funeral. Many were devoted to your Red God, and even those who weren’t deserve a funeral, especially one that lives no chance for the dead to rise again, if my lady understands what I mean.” 

“Of course.” She agreed promptly. “May I ask who controls the Wall?” 

“A raven was sent to Eastwatch-by-the-sea summoning Cotter Pyke, if he’s still alive, to take the temporary control of the Wall, until my brothers are able to assemble an election.” The boy was diligent to say, but Melissandre could few the troubles behind his words. 

“You don’t approve of the choice.” It wasn’t a question and Satin knew it, but it wasn’t his place to question such decision. Even though the boy was young and unprepared to be a man of the Watch, he was wise enough to see what a gunpowder barrel Castle Black became. If anything, Cotter Pyke would be nothing but the sparkle that would explode the Wall. 

“With all due respect, my lady, we need someone who knows how to deal with the wildling and no men of the Night’s Watch understands their ways. They say that Jon…I mean, the Lord Commander broke his vows as should be burned without a proper funeral of a man of the Night’s Watch, but I don’t agree with it, nor do the wildling. They respected him, and they would follow him, if we deny the honor of a ritual I’m quite sure that they will take their weapons against us and we will be at great danger. We are at such disadvantage now that I feel we are all Tormund’s hosts.” 

“I see.” Melissandre nodded while considering what the steward just said. “Prepare the pyres for the funeral. It must be done until dawn. Make sure to bring the direwolf and invite the chiefs among the wildlings.” 

“The wolf is beyond control, my lady. The beast killed four men last night and it’s still thirsty.” The lad said promptly. 

“Bring it anyway. Use chains if you must, but I don’t think it will be necessary. The wolf will come.” It was her final answer and her face was too determinate for Satin to argue. “You may go now.” 

“Very good, my lady.” 

Satin left her chambers to deliver her requests to his superiors. There would be another commotion, she knew. Even when her fire wasn’t helping a single bit, Melissandre could smell something in the air. There was something different in the way the wind was blowing, colder than usual and much more unforgiving. The magic at the Wall, she could feel it in her bones. The Lord of Light had settled the stage for a grand performance. Something was about to change. 

The queen approved the funeral, but it wasn’t a surprise by any standards. She knew better than to cross the Red Priestess and Selise Baratheon had no intention to fall from the Lord of Light’s grace. She was dressed in her finest robes to face both rangers and wildlings. It was a gloomy day for sure. Too much hate and sorrow in each face and none of them was particularly fond of Stanis’ wife. What would become of them without Jon Snow’s support and with the king missing, no one could say. 

The corpses were placed in the pyres, forming a perfect circle. Jon Snow’s body was placed in the central pyre, which stand higher than the others. Melissadre climbed it with the help of a lather before every gaze. She could hear the wildings whispering, and the man of the Watch complaining. Jon Snow had never worshiped the Lord of Light, or the Seven. He was more primitive in his faith, choosing the ancient gods carved in the trees. 

His face was untouched by death and the fatal wounds were sewed. For the first time he was richly dressed in a dark armor, his hair combed and his beard cut short. A handsome face for a young man. He was holding Longclaw with both hands, despite all the complains she heard previously. Many had stated that the sword was made of valyrian steel and it belonged to the Mormont’s of Bear Island. A priceless blade, for sure, but Melissandre insisted that the Lord Commander should carry it to the other world. 

His face should have been cold, but everything in the Wall was colder than him. Melissandre touched his face gently. I would have enjoyed your warmth in the cold nights, but you never wanted me. The thought was bitter since she wasn’t used to rejection. Even though she was beautiful and powerful enough to make him desire her body, seduction had little effect in hearts already conquered. Who was that one you wanted? Your lost wildling wife, your handsome whore boy, or was it someone else? You never seemed to care for anyone else besides your duty, except for your little sister. 

The thought came to her like a lightening. What a wicked thing to assume even though his longing for this lost sister had always been plain enough. Would you ever give her away to another man, even an honorable one or one of her choice? Have this thought hunted you, Lord Snow? No word came out of his mouth in answer, but she heard the approximation of the beast. 

Ghost was brought in chains. His teeth bare and his temper wild, but he calmed at the sight of his master’s body close to Melissandre. She couldn’t contain a smile. 

She turned to face the spectators. Tormund Giantsbane was in front of his men, with a stern face and a blade at his waist. His son was no less frightening. Every man at the Wall was ready for a war that could start at any minute. The sun was setting down in the horizon, it was time to start. 

“Night gathers and now his watch ends!” The men of the Night’s Watch said in unison. 

“Oh R’Hllor, Lord of Light, let the ones who died to reborn in the splendor of your Light. Take them into your grace and embrace them with your mercy.” She climbed the ladder down with the help of Davo’s boy. Satin offered her the torch and Melisandre held it firmly. The ruby at her throat was shining like the fire itself. “For the night is dark and full of terrors.” 

“For the night is dark and full of terrors!” Those faithful to the Lord of The Light shouted in answer and Melisandre lighted the pyre. 

Soon the flames were high and the smell of burned flesh could be felt at distance. Solemn faces were everywhere to be seen. She stared at Jon’s pyre but this time she hadn’t asked for a sight. She simply waited. 

The flames sung a song of their own and danced in the cold winter night casting shadows upon each face. Melissandre could feel something different in the air, a fire consuming her within as if she was being bathed in light. Suddenly a sound of a crack, then a wolf’s howl followed by thousands of voices muttering in shock and terror. 

The Red Priestess turned to face the pyre, to face a dead man burning, but what she saw made her fall on her knees praising her Red God. 

A man surrounded by flames. Not dead and not burning. 

  



	2. Jayne

The first time she ever casted her eyes at the Wall she was both scared and amazed. The winter had come at last and the Northern cold was more unforgiving than ever. Her nose was a proof of it and whenever she touched it the painful thought crossed her mind. _I’ll never be beautiful again, not even pretty._ _Even Arya would look better than me, if she was alive._ And these words made her bitter about her fate, about the selfish desire of becoming something she wasn’t. She was not a Stark after all.

A lie that cost her dearly. Jayne Poole would never be of interest to a noble man. She could have married a commoner, had her own family, live a peaceful life and try to forget the horrors of King’s Landing, but she wanted to be Arya Stark and that was her personal tragedy.  _ What else could I do? They made me pretend, they made me be someone I was not. _ It wasn’t an entire lie, but Jayne was partially blinded by her fear and the wish to escape Littlefinger’s stablishiment. She had expected to be given to a Lannister kin, like Sansa. A blond knight or petty lord who could provide for her and protect her. She only wanted safety and a bit of comfort. She never expected that in comparison to Ramsay Bolton a Lannister could be considered an honorable and desirable mach.

The real Arya would have fought him and she would have been killed. Maybe not killed until she bored him a son, but she would have suffered nonetheless. Her face would be ruined, her bones broken, her flesh torn, but she would never bow. Sansa was the pretty Stark girl, but Arya was more wolf then girl, and that would have cost her a great deal of pain until she begged for her death like Theon did.

The Wall was her only hope and she never really expected that salvation would come to her from Jon Snow’s hand.  _ The beautiful bastard, the bitter bastard. He’ll know the truth at the moment he put his eyes on me and he will hate me more than he will hate Theon. _

Since an early age she had learnt that. Jon Snow was a silent boy and a Stark in everything but name. His only friend was Robb, his only wish was to be Robb. He loved all his siblings with ferocious loyalty and devotion, but Arya was different. Jon Snow loved Robb, Bran and Rickon enough, but not like he loved her. She was to him like the godswood, the heart of Winterfell. _ He could kill me with a single blow for the lie and he would still be merciful. Either way I die and my sin was to use Arya’s holy name. _

Jayne didn’t like Jon when they were kids mostly because he didn’t seem to want anyone’s favor. Near Robb, Jon Snow was plain and uninspiring. He never smiled at her, not even tried to be nice to her. He was cold like his name, bitter, frightening even. She rarely talked to him at the time and the only occasion that Jayne had his full attention was when she called Arya names and he was near enough to listen.

He grabbed her by her arm and dragged her to a secluded place. His face was transfixed in a mask of pure anger and it made Jayne fear the he would hurt her somehow. He never did it, though. Jon pressed her against the wall and looked straightly to her eyes. “You have no right to talk to her like that and I don’t care if you did it to amuse Sansa. Call her Horse Face again and I’ll talk to Lord Stark personally about how you treat your superiors. Arya is your lady, you better treat her as such.” Of course she didn’t take him seriously. Jayne smirked at him in defiance and tested his patience. “Who are you to threaten me? You are not my lord to lecture me. You are only a bastard.” He could have beaten her black and blue, but he didn’t. Jon Snow simply looked at her with the rage burning in his grey eyes. “I’m aware of my parentage and rank. I know my place better than you know yours, but I’ll remind you that no one really expects a bastard to be dutiful, loyal and honorable. If I ever hear you calling Arya names again, I’ll live by a bastard’s reputation and you may live to regret your lack of good sense.” After that Jayne became more discreet whenever she decided to torment Arya Stark.

Theon was sure that the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch would never turn his back at a woman in danger like her, but Jayne wasn’t sure anymore. She hoped that Jon would still be as honorable as any Stark and protect her at least for a while. She hoped that he would forgive her for the lie, but Jayne had little expectation that this would ever become reality.

No one really understood the two of them back at Winterfell, but Jayne suspected that the bond between Arya Stark and Jon Snow began with the feeling of rejection. They never fitted in Winterfelll. He was a lucky bastard with an honorable father, she was the wild child who refused to grow up to be a proper lady. They used to finish each other’s sentences and laugh together, although neither of them was particularly good humored. They used to protect each other with the deepest devotion. They even shared the same looks. Pale long face, dark hair, grey eyes. In Jon Snow these features have made of him a handsome boy, while Arya was simply plain. “And some would dare say that she looked like Lady Lyanna Stark.”

She knew that Jon Snow would have no reason to offer her kindness and still she went to the Wall willing to do anything for his protection. The sight of such a magnificent construction made her shiver and her eyes water. She would be safe there, or at least her chances would be better than with Ramsey.

“There’s something burning.” Theon’s weak voice sounded near her but Jayne ignored it. She could be safe now, she could beg for forgiveness, she could say whatever they wanted her to say in order to receive protection from her monstrous husband. “There’s a fire! What is wrong?!”

“The Red Women. She must be celebrating something, or burning old gods, or even cursing the whole world. There’s not much difference, anyway.” Their guide replied with little excitement in his voice. “Fear not, turn cloak. The Lord Commander will still want your head on a spike and if he doesn’t Axel Florent will do the honor of cut it off.”

“You’ll see your brother soon, my lady.” Tycho Nestoris rushed to say in an effort of being gentle to her. He was a fine man from Braavos, all good manners and soft speech.  _ My brother, he says. What I’ll see is a man that loves me not and will love even less when he take a look at me and find the poor old Jayne instead of his precious little sister. _

When they passed the gates of Castle Black the sound of commotion could be clearly heard by everyone. Wildlings, rangers, queen’s man and king’s man, children, elders, women, all of them standing there on their knees while the pyres’ fire stood high.  _ A funeral. _ She thought at first. A strange service, but Jayne knew that the civilized world ended at the Wall.

A woman dressed in red was dancing in circles around the central pyre where a man in flames stood with a sword in hand.  _ She’s burning him alive?! The witch is burning a man alive!  _ It was her first thought. The reputation of the Red Priestess preceded her, and Jayne had feared the woman even before she could ever meet the witch of Ashai, with good reason it would seem.

She screamed in terror at the sight of the burning man, but no one paid her any attention. After the shock she noticed what was happening and why a crying girl would be so gravely ignored. The man was on fire, but he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t burning at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone thinks that Jon Snow will come back from the dead to crack random jokes among his friends, this fanfic will disappoint you. A bit of explanation first. Each chapter has a POV character and most of them are women, with few exceptions. I guess Jayne is the most tragic character in this, for everything she has suffered in Ramsay's hands and with the certainty that Jon won't be happy once he finds out that who he thought to be his sister is indeed an impostor.  
> She doesn't like Jon and this is something reciprocate, so you can expect some serious shit ahead.  
> I hope you like it guys.  
> Reviews are most welcome.  
> One God, One Realm, One Ship!


	3. Val

She could smell evil from afar. It wasn’t something she could control. Some of the freefolks were wargs, some were warriors, some were cunning, some were healers, and it was their talents. She was a spearwife, but her true gift was to feel evil rising at distance, therefore she never liked the Red Woman.

Val thought that witch dangerous and far too mysterious to her taste, but nothing would ever prepare her for that night and that fire.

She was the one who prepared the dead bodies for the funeral and she did it only to have a minute for herself to see his handsome face for one last time before she could give his body to the flames.

Val had undressed him, the one thing she wanted to do the most since the day he defended the Wall and defeated the freefolks in battlefield. A traitor, a crow, a turn-cloak, a nobleman’s son, a commander, a bastard. Jon Snow had more names and titles than any man should have, and more enemies than most man have in a lifetime. _Too brave, too young, too foolish._

He was pretty, different from any kind of man she ever knew, but not less bold and cunning. Jon Snow had tricked and killed Mance Rayder, the King Beyond The Wall; had made an ally of Tormund; defeated her people and saved them from the cruel winter by admitting them South of the Wall. She never understood him more than she ever understood any man, but she wished for a while that maybe one day he would look at her with fire in his eyes and steal her for himself.

Val had dreamt about his naked body pressed against hers, she had craved for the warmth of his skin against her and she wondered more than once if everything Ygritte ever said about Jon Snow was true. She would have been a lover to him, a wife even, but Jon Snow never looked at her with such an interest, not even when the Southern King and his mustached queen tried to persuade him to take Val for his wife.

He never accepted, though. Jon Snow never tried to steal her, to take her to his bed. She managed to have his body naked, but it was cold and pale. Jon Snow was gone and Val was responsible to seal his wounds, wash his body and dress him for his pyre. She did the best she could and lost a few minutes admiring his handsome face. With his eyes closed he seemed at peace, just sleeping and dreaming about his home or whatever he used to dream about.

 _You’ve never seemed at peace, not even when you were with Ygritte. What were your dreams back then? Summer lands?Your family? There was ever anything that could make you at ease and happy?_ She never knew. Jon always seemed so dutiful and sour. He had no humor, nor cared to show sympathy to anyone. He respected Mance, he cared about his fellowman, he was never unfair and even protected Dalla’s boy, but there was never a single drop of joy in Jon Snow. _I could have made you smile, if you’ve let me._

Now he was dead and she would never see him smiling, or showing anything that could prove that he was more human than crow. The only time she saw him demonstrating as much feeling as he was able to show was when the news about his sister arrival. He was up to something, he was restless and desperate to get rid of his oaf to the Watch in order to rescue the long lost girl. _You loved her dearly, enough to break your vow and now you are dead because of her. I wish I knew this sister of yours. What an extraordinary thing she must be._

When the crows arrived to take the bodies to the pyre Val bided farewell to that boy, that brave boy she once desired. The sadness of the moment couldn’t suppress the imminent risk of another battle between the freefolks and the crows, though. With Jon Snow dead there was no reason for the Watch to keep the promises made by the late Lord Commander. The long lasting hate was burning once more and the Wall became a barrel of gunpowder. One sparkle and everything would end in fire and blood, but for the first time the Watch was at disadvantage.

The generals and the warriors among the freefolks had sharpened their blades and prepared their weapons. She carried her own spear with her and got prepared for any attack when the Red Woman started the ceremony. Everything was quiet, too quiet for her taste and Val felt a chill running over her spine.

And then it all happened like a nightmare, like a scary and twisted dream.

A man in flames. Not burning and not dead.

“I was wondering if I may ask a favor of you, my lady.” The familiar and solemn voice dragged her away from her daydreams. He was laid in his bed. They allowed him to keep his old chambers and some would even still call him Lord Commander, but if he would still hold the Wall was another matter altogether. Not even a single hair had been burned, but something inside him changed. He was not the cold, honorable boy he once was. There was a burning rage within his eyes and as soon as he was freed from his oaf, he would seek his revenge.

“Ask whatever you want, but I don’t guarantee that you’ll have the answer you seek.” She answered bluntly. He nodded.

“I would ask for you to be my sister’s lady in waiting, at least for a while, if you agree. I don’t trust Arya’s security to any of the queen’s man, and I would be much more at ease to know that you would be at her side while I’m unable to protect her myself.” He said calmly. That was much unlike the men she once fancied. Jon Snow was never so careful with his words whenever he was asking something. No, he was used to give orders, but the mention of his sister’s name always made him soften.

She evaluated his figure for a while. He looked like a man recovering from injuries, but not ill enough to be put out of work. No one was willing to let him do anything at the Wall in fear of what he might do once he had control over the supplies and resources. Jon Snow was still a young, well-built man even though he was still recovering his full strength. His torso bared the marks of the attack, still red.

“I’m no lady and even if I were, what should I wait for?” She asked in confusion. Kneelers and their weird traditions and costumes. Why should anyone need a woman to wait for anything but give birth to children?

“A lady in waiting is an honorable position. Women of noble birth are generally assisted by other women who keep them company in their daily duties and are usually close. I’m asking you to be a friend to lady Arya, but if that sounds too intimate, I would only require of you to keep her safe while my fate is still unsure.” He said calmly and carefully. What an odd thing to ask.

“I can keep the girl safe, even though I think that you are the one who she wants to see.” Val answered promptly. “Why haven’t you seen her yet, if I may ask?”

He made a long pause. For such an unusual man he was seaming to be afraid of something, which was an extraordinary thing to his standards.

“I’ve heard the rumors of what Ramsay Bolton did to her and I’m afraid that my reactions might be difficult to contain if I put my eyes on her right now.” He answered with calculated words. “You see, I’m fighting my instincts already. If I were a free man, I would have beheaded Theon Greyjoy already, despite my sister’s weird behavior in the matter. I don’t understand why Arya would beg for the life of such a man. Not after what he did.”

After his answer there was another moment of awkward silence. The man who lived was clearly upset and confused by the reaction of the said Arya Stark. Val knew little about the girl to judge the matter, but a woman would hardly beg for the life of a man who had killed her siblings. If this Theon was a murder, traitor and turn-cloak, Jon Snow had good reason to have his head for a wine cup and make fine jewels of his bones to adorn the girl.

“Ygritte used to say that I knew nothing. Perhaps her words had some reason after all.” He said bluntly and Val was thrown out of balance by such an intimate statement. He was always reserved about his thoughts and past, but defeat death could change a man. “I don’t seem to understand woman after all, not even the one I’ve always could read as clearly as any letter. I suppose that war have changed her, I can only guess the horrors she had been through, but still…I don’t…I can’t see any sense in her behavior. Is a woman’s heart so gentle and forgiving by nature that a girl who lost everything could find in her soul enough kindness to forgive such a despicable creature?”

Val wondered how freely she should speak. The man was confused indeed, more than it he was hurt by the disturbing news. She knew nothing about their relationship, but supposed that they were once very close. Jon had broken his vows in order to save the girl after all.

“I know nothing of this girl’s heart, but I know what I would do. I would kiss the man gently and as gently as the kiss went on, my dagger would do me the favor of open him from belly to chest and have his heart for a meal.”

“She would’ve liked that, the Arya that I used to know.” He said with a twist of melancholy in his tone. Jon Snow had changed indeed.

“Have you considered that maybe this girl they brought is not your sister?” Val suggested. “You kneelers have strange traditions and ways. It would be a cleaver plan, to use an impostor girl.” Another pause. He rested his head against the stony wall and sighted.

“I’ve considered it, of course.” Jon Snow said. “Maybe I don’t want to believe it. Maybe I had my hopes soaring to high and now I don’t wish to believe once more that she is really dead. It’s unfair to realize that I’ve survived, that I’m alive and Arya is not. The Red Woman says I’m Azor Ahai reborn now. If there’s such a thing, I expect some kind of reward from her red god. If Arya is alive and find her way back home, I’ll be whatever he wants.”

“It’s a dangerous thing, Jon Snow. No man should bargain with gods or devils.”

“What options do I have?” He contested.

“Why is this sister of yours so special?” Val couldn’t resist the temptation of her curiosity. He seemed to consider her question very carefully.

“I have no mother. I’ve never knew my mother, I don’t even know who she was. My lord father was always attentive toward me, a good father to any boy or girl; his lady wife never liked me, though. I suppose that Arya became my main female figure since she learnt to walk and started to follow me everywhere. She never fitted in Winterfell more than I did. It brought us close, I suppose. We used to finish sentences together and console each other whenever times got hard to bear.”

“Why are you telling me all those things? You were never a great speaker, but now you seem to have found your tongue.” Val noticed and it made him uncomfortable for a while.

“I’ve kept it for myself too long and it was getting me mad. Only the gods in the woods know of how much I regretted my vows when my father was beheaded, and my brothers slain. I had no idea of what was made of my sister for a while. Sansa was married of to Tyrion Lannister, but despite his family and looks, I don’t think he could actually put her in danger. Besides, she was too valuable to be lost. From Arya I haven’t heard a single word until that woman told me of a sight. A grey girl on a dying horse coming to the Wall to avoid a marriage. It gave me hope and made my black garments feel more like a uniform of the Watch than mourning cloths. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you with my everlasting nonsense, but I’m thankful for your patience. Without Sam around here I have no one to talk about such things.”

“I’m your friend then?” She asked suspiciously.

“You are the closest thing to a friend that I have these days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Val is probably one of the most important characters in this fanfic, mostly because she becomes a close friend to Jon and also his conscience, to a certain degree. I quite like this chapter and it's the first time we get to see Jon after the resurrection.  
> I hope you like it and reviews are most welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

The girl was a skinny little thing. Barely a woman, she would say. Her skin was covered with purple bruises and marks that were now fading. This girl, this Arya Stark was what she needed to get into Jon Snow’s good graces and try to persuade him to fight her battle. It wouldn’t be easy, she knew; but if his precious little sister could whisper a word or two about it in his ears than Melissandre would have the champion of light by her side.

The fire awakened something inside the boy, something deadly powerful and mysterious. _His is the song of ice and fire. The ice of Winterfell and the Wall, the fire in which he was reborn. Jon Snow, what an incredible man you are. What a powerful man you could become with my help. Let Stannis rot for now. He’s no king and no Azor Ahai, Jon Snow is._

He had sent the wildling princess to keep Lady Stark company. The girl seemed terribly afraid of the woman who cared weapons as a southern lady would carry a looking glass at her hands. They were both uncomfortable with the girl, who was nothing like they would have expected. She was constantly scared and cried all the time, she was not a great beauty and definitely the bit of nose that she lost wouldn’t help her anyway. Jon Snow never told how his sister was like in temper, but Melissandre was quite disappointed by the feeble creature they called Arya Stark.

_If he ever fancied her, then what disappoints me the most is his lack of taste in woman. He had a wildling for his wife once. A woman of fiery temper they say. This girl has nothing of her brother in her, not a single drop of a wolf nature inside her soul. If anything, she is a deer, destined to be a pray of savage beasts._

But she was his sister, therefore it was not Melissandre’s place to question their bond. She looked closely to the girls face before she could say anything.

“The Lord Commander will be here soon. I assume you must miss him terribly, don’t you?” Melissandre asked and the girl shivered. Something was terribly off about that girl.

“Is he really alive after the fire? How can it be?” The girl asked in a frightened tone. “Maybe it’s not wise for us to meet. He must be busy or in need of rest after what happened.”

“Don’t be foolish. Jon Snow is your brother and he has missed you very much. There’s nothing to be afraid of. He’s a hero, the champion of light, and you shouldn’t be afraid of the light.” The girl didn’t say a word in return, but she didn’t seem at ease either.

Jon Snow had refused to see her while his forces weren’t fully recovered. The conquer of death could truly change a man, but his pride was still there. He wanted his sister to see him at his best, and Melissandre could respect such a wish, but she had grown inpatient. She wanted him to see with his own eyes the truth of her prophecies and power, therefore he would thrust her at least a little bit.

After an hour of long nervous waiting, she heard the knock at the door and his voice asking permission to enter the chamber. He had the education of a lord after all. Jon Snow could be considered as refined and well educated as a king should be. He finally entered the room. Since there was a huge debate about Jon Snow keeping his position as Lord Commander, he wasn’t allowed to wear the black until the matter was settled. He wasn’t willing to give up the black, though; opting to wear black garments only with a white giant wolf as his personal coat of arms.

He looked splendid, like a bonfire in a cold winter night. His eyes flashing excitement and hint of fear. His beard was well cut, his dark hair less wild than she remembered and there was something hard about his features as if they had aged a few years in a month. The boy Jon Snow was dead and what stood in front of her was the man.

“Lord Snow, at last I have the pleasure to reunite you and your beloved sister, Lady Arya Stark.” Melissandre said with a satisfied tone, while the girl shrank behind the red priestess.

Jon got a step closer and waved his hand to Melissandre to step aside. The girl had his back turned at him as if he was some kind of beast. The Red Priestess assumed that after being with a monster like the Bolton bastard, the girl must have got afraid of her own shadow. Even though it was a perfectly reasonable explanation to an awkward behavior, Jon Snow didn’t seem content. In fact, it was clear as day that her reaction had hurt him severally.

“Arya, please. I know you’ve been through a lot, but turn around and let me see your face.” He asked in a tender and contained tone. What an intimate piece of conversation. Melissandre almost felt embarrassed.

He got closer to the girl in panic. Jon was confused, hurt and profoundly desperate to touch her and bring his sister to an embrace.

“Please…” His voice was even more painful to hear than before. “Little sister, please. Look at me. Call my name. Finish sentences with me as you did once.” As intimate as a love letter and the passion play of lovers. “I’m still the same Jon and I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.”

Melissandre noticed that he touched the girl’s shoulders and with a bit of strength he made her turn around to face him. The Red Priestess had imagined many reactions from him, but she hadn’t foreseen that. Rage, deception, anger…What was wrong?! She was the girl he looked for. She was Arya Stark for sure.

“How dare you?!” His voice was as sharp as a dagger. “Everyone, out! Except for you.” He pointed to the shaking girl. “As for you, Lady Melissandre. You should give up trying to foresee the future in your flames. You had used them to manipulate me and nearly everyone around you, but clearly you lack the talent for prophecies. This is not my sister.”

His voice let no place for discussion. Melissandre bowed before Jon, trying to contain her own frustration and shame. Arya Stark was her doom once more. This ghost girl who hunted Jon Snow’s heart and conscience; the memory of this girl would kill them all.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter and just a glimpse of how bad things can get to Melissandre for using Arya's name in vain. Again, if anyone is expecting Jon to be the honorable hero in this, think twice.  
> I hope you'll like it.  
> Reviews are always welcome.


	5. Jeyne

Her heart was pounding furiously while his angry eyes scanned her face with disgust and rage. She knew that Jon Snow would know the truth and that it would make him like her even less than before. What else could she do? What choices did she have?

The mere sight of him made her shiver in fear. The image of him, surrounded by flames, supposedly dead, was still printed on her mind. He was supposed to be dead, but there he was; alive, strong, deadly furious and only the gods could tell how dangerous a man who lost everything could be. Jon Snow had nothing else to lose; that alone made of him the most dangerous man in the Seven Kingdoms.

Jayne looked at the sigil in his chest. A white wolf on a black field. What an appropriated choice for a bastard. _I must be careful to not call him a bastard. He might be as cruel as Ramsay was. All bastards are resentful of their condition, Jon Snow was never different in this._

He grabbed her by her cape roughly. His face so close to hers that Jeyne could smell the scent of ale in his breath. Tears went down her face as she waited for the punishment he was certain to give her. _If I am to die, please let it be quick._

“You better start talking about why you are here, and why you pretended to be her.” His voice was harsh and demanding. He certainly had learnt to give orders.

“I was forced to do so.” She sobbed. “It was not my idea; they knew all along that I was not Arya! The Lannisters, I mean. It was Lord Tywin’s plan! They killed my father, my family; no one could say that I was not Arya. They sent me to Bolton to legitimate his claim and guarantee that the northerners would follow him in battle.” Jon let go of her by throwing Jeyne to the floor where she felt to her knees and grabbed his mantle. The tears and sobbing followed her desperate gesture. “Please forgive me! Forgive me Jon! I was scared and alone! I’ve seen dreadful things and I’ve paid for this lie! Believe me, I’ve paid!”

He pulled his mantle away and turned his back at her. Jon’s face was nothing but a mask made of ice and anger. _When did he become this man? A Stark would have been kinder to me, it would be the honorable thing to do; but he was never as Stark, and I was never Arya. He will never forgive me for that._

”I assume that the Lannisters never had Arya in their possession. You have some resemblance to her, you know Winterfell since it was your home too. It was a cleaver plan indeed.” He sounded rational, but no less angry. “Theon was a part of the plan too?”

“Only in which concerns the confirmation of my identity. He was close to the family, he would be able to recognize Arya Stark. If he could lie about my identity no one could say otherwise; except you.”

Jon turned back to face her. Jayne was still sat on the floor. Her face covered with tears. He looked at her as if she was an inferior creature and it would have hurt her pride in another time, when she had a family and a name of her own. Back then she fancied herself as Jon’s superior despite the fact that he was Lord Stark’s son. She was legitimate and he was not. _Now I’m nothing but a disgraced woman, and Jon Snow is my only hope._

“I want to know what happened with them. Sansa and Arya, I mean. What really happened?” Jon said coldly.

“Sansa was kept in King’s Landing. I couldn’t see her, talk to her, or anything like that. I heard rumors, though. They said that Jeoffrey enjoyed hurting her. He did it several times, before she was married of to the Imp. She run away, I don’t know how. Someone helped her for sure, but I have no idea of whom.” Jayne answered quickly, but he didn’t seem to care about what had happened to Sansa. He looked at her with anxiety.

“What about Arya? Was she killed by them? Did she escape?” Jon insisted and now his voice sounded desperate if not passionate.

“She was never found. I mean…Who would pay attention to a girl covered in mud, full of scratches and bruises? She wandered freely everywhere and no one ever realized that she was the Hand’s daughter. For all I know, she has escaped. Otherwise they would have no need of an impostor. I’m sorry, but I know nothing about her whereabouts. I wouldn’t be so hopeful, though.”

Jon never answered that and she knew that he never would give up his hope. Arya had always been his favorite and as long as he lived he would believe that she was somewhere, hidden and safe from her enemies. _A fool, you are. A bastard and a fool to search the world for a girl you should be mourning. No. You are just a fool for her. Like you’ve always been. Were you Targaryens, no doubt you would wish her for a wife and even so, Targaryen bastards were never married to legitimate dragons._

“Will you send me away? Will you send me back to Bolton?” She asked in fear. Jon didn’t answer straightly. He turn his back at her and walked toward an old chair where he sat as if he were a real lord, or even a king.

“No. Despite of my deception about your fake identity, I’ll have use of you Jeyne. You and Theon.” Jon said with a hint of disgust in his voice. “I’ll have to reveal the whole plot to the North. Once the lie is undone, I’ll have a legitimate claim to Winterfell and no northerner will ever follow a Bolton when a son of Eddard Stark, even a natural one, is an option.”

“You are a man of the Night’s Watch. You’ve made a vow. You are not allowed to inherit, to have a family, to interfere in the politics of the realm. If you do so…”

“I’ll be named as a traitor and my sentence will be death? I won’t be doing anything that I haven’t done before, will I? If you haven’t paid attention to the latest events, let me tell you this. I was dead and my fellows said the very words that released me from my oaf. Despite the infinite debate that followed, I am a free man and I can and will do whatever pleases me. I’ll take Winterfell back and if I see suitable I’ll lead the North against the ones who murdered my family.” His voice sounded resolute and for a brief moment Jeyne saw not the envious bastard boy that once played swords with the heir of Winterfell. For the first time she saw a man that had always been meant to be the King in the North. “For now, I’m supposed to stay here and organize the men I managed to bring to my cause.”He made a calculated pause. “You’ll be safe, for now. Say the truth and I promise you that I’ll look to your case with kinder eyes.”

“Thank you…” She said reluctantly. “My Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow is not happy. I guess that much is clear enough and he doesn't care a single bit about what Jeyne has suffered. In fact, at this point he barely acknowledges Jeyne as a human being and if it wasn't for her importance in his plans of revealing the Bolton's plot to take Winterfell he would have killed both her and Theon already. At this point he is far less inclined to show empathy to anyone who he might consider to have done him wrong and Jeyne has done the unthinkable. She used Arya's name.  
> I really feel sorry for Jeyne in this. She is lost and she has no one who might help her somehow. At the moment she is at Jon's mercy and she doesn't trust that him.  
> I hope you like the story. I'm so happy with the reviews that you can't even imagine!


	6. The Winter's Wind

She heard it at a cheap wine house near the docks. There were a few men from a westerosi crew having their way with the local whores. She was wearing another ugly face. Her name was Missy and she was nothing but another servant cleaning the floor. At the House of Black and White the kindly man was waiting for the three new things that she learned that week.

The men at the wine house were shouting about nasty rumors from the North. Stannis Baratheon slain and frozen in the North, while trying to kick the Bolton bastard out of Winterfell and rescue the northern princess. Arya Stark was her name.

That name sent a shiver through her spine along with a pang in her heart. She was Missy. She had to remember that and a girl named Arya Stark meant nothing to her. In a different life they might have been friends, both ladies playing on a field covered with white snow.

The sailors’ tale grew even darker. Something about a Red Priestess at the Wall and a rebellion against the Lord Commander. The Black Bastard at the Wall, they called him. The man had been stabbed by his own subordinates under accusation of treason and desertion. Jon Snow was dead.

Jon Snow…

That name made her crumble inside. She left the wine house in a hurry, while feeling ill. Her stomach curled and twisted, making her sick. She run as fast as her legs could take her but she didn’t know where she was going until she stopped at the Red Temple. The torches were lighted and a few devotees repeated their pray “The night is dark and full of terrors.”

She held to the temple’s wall and vomited although her stomach had been empty for hours. She tried to wipe her mouth clean with the back of her hand, but her stomach didn’t feel any better. Her hands were shaking and the tears never stopped running down her cheeks.

“Are you feeling well, child?” An old man asked her. “Are you lost? Where are your parents?” He was a priest, wearing his bright red robes.

She was far away from home and her parents were dead. They had been the Lord and Lady Stark of Winterfell and she had brothers named Robb, Bran and Rickon. A sister named Sansa, who was a beautiful and perfect lady. She also had a half-brother named Jon Snow. He gave her a sword when they last saw each other, and she loved him more than any of her siblings. But these weren’t Missy’s memories and thoughts. These were the thoughts of Arya Stark, a girl she had thought to be dead long ago.

Jon Snow was dead and Arya’s heart was broken with grief and sorrow, to the point of making her physically ill.

She was crying when she escaped the touch of the red priest. Her feet took her to the House of Black and White. She entered her chambers and went straightly to her bed where she laid. Her skinny fingers grabbed her most valuable possession that was hidden under the mattress. The scabbard covered with soft grey leather was of the same color of Jon’s eyes and despite of the lack of memories of a life where she was known as Arya Stark, she had never been able to forget his eyes or his smile.

 _Who am I now? What am I doing here?_ The thoughts were like poison and daggers. _No! Not Jon! Not my Jon!_

The kindly man arrived not long after her. He looked carefully at her, wondering why a girl without name could be wiping for. She suddenly became aware of every single movement and sound that he might produce. Only No One was welcome at the House of Black and White. No One had no brothers to mourn.

“What have you learned this week?” he asked as he always did. She closed her eyes.

“A ship from Westeros arrived at the docks and it’s called Winter’s Rage.” She said straight away, trying to disguise that she had been crying. “It will sail back to the Seven Kingdoms at the first light.”

“What else?” He asked.

“Stannis Baratheon was killed by the Bolton bastard on his way to Winterfell. He was trying to rescue Arya Stark.” She said in a motionless tone. Stannis Baratheon had never gotten even close to Arya Stark. He had never gone to Braavos.

“That name is familiar, isn’t it? What else?” He insisted with clear interest in what she would say next.

“My brother is dead. Stabbed by his subordinates.” The words were like daggers through her heart.

“And who is this brother of yours?” His voice sounded amused. “You are No One and No One has no brothers or sisters, nor a father and mother.”

“I’m not No One and I had a brother named Jon Snow. Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.” She said with tears on her eyes. She had tried too hard to forget who she was. The doubts that might have leaded her to that decision had vanished.

“Who are you then?” The same old question.

“I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Eddard Stark and Lady Catlyn. My brother Robb was King in the North. There’s a westerosi ship at the docks and it will sail back to Westeros at the first light. I’ll be in this ship and I’ll go back home. I am a Stark of Winterfell and this is not my place.” The words came out of her mouth effortlessly.

“Surely it isn’t. This face doesn’t belong to Arya Stark either, but you’ve learned too much of our ways around here and too much of our methods for me to let you go back to your home so easily.” The kindly man said with a cold voice that made her shiver.

 _Learn to see and not to look. This man is no friend of mine. This man serves the One Of Many Faces, he won’t let me betray his god and walk away so easily._ Her mind warned her. She was in no mood for a fight, but again…Syrio Forel once said that one never fights a battle when his mind is peaceful. Battles happen when chaos rages all over the mind.

He took a dagger out of his sleeve and raised it in the air, ready to stab her. She had no blade or way to defend herself, he might have thought. She had nothing to fight with for her life, except that she did. She pulled a Needle that was hidden under her matters with the agility of a cat. A thin awkward blade made of fine castle steel with Miken’s mark on it. Jon smiled at her through the shiny blade while she stabbed the kindly man’s heart with it.

 _Stick with the pointy end._ She could almost hear him whispering close to her ear while guiding her hand. Blood tainted the blade, her face and hands. Once more Jon has saved her life with the most stupid lesson of all and somehow the only one that she knew by heart.

She had no time to wait. If she wanted to go back home she would need to run as fast as she could back to the docks. The skinny girls took a bag of coin that was hidden inside the kindly man’s robes. Enough to grant her a place in the westerosi ship and to take her to the Wall. Winterfell could wait for her a bit longer, but her brother’s murderers could not.

She kept Missy’s face for a while longer, just enough to reach the ship. When the vessel arrived at North’s frozen shore, she was once more the orphan girl that saw her father’s beheading. At this point she was all wrapped up in thick furs and warm clothes as her hair flown freely in the cold wind. Winter was upon them and the snow was everywhere to be seen.

 _Winter is coming._ She remembered her father saying. _The lonely wolf dies, but the pack survives._ Every man must die, she knew. She would die anyway, but first she would have her taste of blood and vengeance. She would give Jon justice.

“I am the she-wolf. I am the freezing breeze. I am the Winter’s Wind.” She whispered when her feet reached the snow for the first time in forever. “I am Arya Stark.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally we got to see Arya in this fic and she is going home, hopping to find Jon's murderers and give them justice in her own special way. She doesn't have a clue of what is going on in Castle Black at this point and it's not just about her revenge. Arya reached a point in which she realizes that she is the last Stark and there must be always a Stark in Winterfell. Her training wasn't able to make her forget who she was and what was expected of her as a daughter of Ned Stark, so our warrior princess is about to do what she had avoided so far. She is reclaiming her identity and everything that comes with it.  
> I hope you like it! Reviews are always welcome.


	7. Melissandre

It had started and turned into a way she would never expect. A council of the Night’s Watch members was assembled and they voted for Jon Snow to be freed from his oaf. Jon was not the Lord Commander anymore and it set his rage free.

He often walked around Castle Black followed by his direwolf and eventually in the company of either the wildling princess or the impostor sister. He had talked with Tormund and now there was a talk about Jon Snow commanding an army of freefolks to take back Winterfell and flay the Bolton Bastard alive.

 _South they are going when they should be marching to the North. Bolton is just an ordinary cruel man, but the true enemy is elsewhere._ She thought bitterly. Jon Snow wouldn’t listen to a single word she said and, truth be told, he had no reason to. She had failed him twice with a misinterpretation of her flames and now her position was delicate.

Melissandre was now isolated, with only Selise to provide her with some sort of protection, but without a word from Stannis whereabouts it was only a matter of time until the Night’s Watch kick them out of the Wall.

Although her flames have failed her, the Red Woman looked inside it once more, trying to find a glimpse of hope. Winter was already raging at their door and even though she wasn’t usually afflicted by the cold, the same couldn’t be said about the rest of Stannis forces. Soon there would be thousands of dead frozen bodies pilling high and waiting to be cremated. She had little time to change her perspectives.

The flames in the fire place danced and whispered, bathing her face in warm light. She narrowed her eyes a bit and she asked for a sign. Melissandre asked about AzorAhai and once more she saw Jon Snow with a sword in flames within his hands. She asked what must be done to make him understand his fate and accept her guidance and then she saw…

A great darkness. A great shadow that reduced little by little until it gained the shape of a human body. A girl, almost a woman for sure, but this person had no face and her heart was made of solid ice, just like the Wall. Although the figure was not particularly frightening, Melissandre couldn’t contain the chill running all over her spine. Was it possible that the ghost of Arya Stark would hunt her forever or was it someone else? Someone yet to be revealed.

The freezing wind was getting colder by the hour and soon Lord Snow would reunite the required forces to fight for Winterfell. Latter he would support the princess claim to the throne in exchange for a share of the loan provided by the Iron Bank. Sooner before later darkness would cover the world and Jon Snow should be ready to be the champion of the light.

Once more she looked inside the flames asking for some kind of clue about this new character, this faceless shadow woman, but she only saw waves and the unmistakable movement of a ship. A ship made of ice and snow, fast like the winds of winter. The Northern Shore was the answer. East Watch would be receiving guests soon.

A soft knock at her door called for Melissandre’s attention. She gave permission to whoever might be visiting her at such a late hour. The girl called Jayne entered, with her head lowed, trying to hide the deformed nose.

“I thought that you would be following the Lord Snow.” Melissandre said without amusement. The girl was the source of her downfall and if she was a bit smart, Jayne would never cross the priestess way again. “What is that that you want?”

“You said that you would like to be informed of the news about the march to Winterfell.” Jayne said shyly. “A ship arrived at East Watch this afternoon. Lord Snow will ride to East Watch at the first light in the morrow to negotiate with the merchant for supplies. If everything goes well, they will be marching at the end of the week.”

“Well…I must go to East Watch too. Lord Snow might have need of me.” Melissandre said convicted.

“The wildling is going with him, my lady. I doubt that your presence will be required.” Jayne’s voice was shaking. “Jon…I mean, Lord Snow doesn’t approve of you nor your god. It will anger him if you insist.”

“Although he is the chosen one, Jon Snow is still a mortal man. I do not fear his rage, or his opinion. He will need me; he just refuses to see it.” The priestess said convict. “Thank you for the information. You may go now.”

“My lady.” Jayne bowed to her and left the room in silence.

Melissandre tried to have some sleep that night, but all to no avail. She could hear the sound of wildlings and steward in the courtyard, preparing supplies and horses to the journey. It would take about three days to reach East Watch if the weather helped. The travel would be slow and uncomfortable, but if she manage to find out who was the mysterious girl made of shadows, she would consider it a small price to pay.

At the break of dawn she was in the courtyard, waiting for her horse to be saddled. It didn’t take much time to see Lord Snow, all covered in his usual black attires. He wasn’t allowed to wear the simple garments of the Night’s Watch any longer. As a solution he kept the black and sewed a white direwolf on his tunics, adopting it as his personal sigil. Jon Snow looked splendid, wearing his colors as any noble man would, with his bastard sword by his side and the silent direwolf a few steps behind him.

He looked at her with obvious displeasure. He wasn’t the lord commander any more, therefore he didn’t have to pretend that her presence was welcome. She bowed lightly to him as courtesy.

“Good morning, my lord. R’Holor is good, the weather is good enough for your journey.” She said elegantly.

“Good enough. I see that you had your horse saddled, but don’t remember requiring your company. I have enough men as it is and my lady shouldn’t be put to such a harsh journey like that.” He said in an effort to be polite. He was, after all, an educated. “You must stay and attend to the queen and the princess.”

“I beg to differ, my lord. I’ve seen something about this ship at East Watch in my flames. There’s something I must investigate and I believe that you might have use for me.”Melissandre insisted and it didn’t pleased Jon Snow in anyway.

“Your flames again. I thought that it was clear enough that my lady lacks the gift of prophesy. I have no use for your tricks, nor am I fond of the way you make use of them to manipulate my men. I’ve had enough of your charms for a lifetime and after so many mistakes I’m done with anything that you might say about the Lord of Light. My gods are the old ones carved in trees and so far I’m pleased with my faith. Take you red ropes and your fire god out of my sight at once.”

His voice was harsh and cold as the North itself. Arguing with him would do her no good at this point. Jon’s patience was at the end and he didn’t have his vows to stop him of doing whatever he pleased. Melissandre bowed to his will and stepped back giving him passage.

Jon Snow mounted his horse and at this point once could say that he looked like a dark prince or a knight from a song. The wildling princess, Val, was by his side but he looked at her as he would look at any of his subordinates. After the mysterious event of his resurrection, even that girl started to fear Jon Snow and keep a safe distance. If once he was forbidden to love anyone aside his duty and honor, now it seemed that there was no love left in Jon Snow.

Jon Snow had a dark heart and a dark soul, both mourning a long lost girl he once called sister. His body might be strong and healthy, but Jon Snow died along with the hope of finding the girl he loved the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that the new episode has been leaked, but I'll stick to my promise and publish two chapters today. This is the first and the second chapter will come after the episode has been aired by HBO tonight.  
> Can you guess what will happen during the next chapter?   
> I hope you like it. Reviews are always appreciated!


	8. Val

He had never been a carrying man by any standard. Jon had shown some kindness to Ygritte once, and was always polite and ceremonious with Mance, Tourmund, her sister Dalla and her boy, even to her, but he had never been truly carrying. There was something cold about him and his honor that made him fearsome. After the heartbreaking disappointment about his lost sister, he had become a true heartless man.

The news of a merchant ship arriving at East Watch was received with relief. Without food, the troops wouldn’t stand a week of journey. He was intending to travel to the northern clans in the mountains and ask for more men and supplies along the way, but there was little guarantee that the northerners would ever side with the freefolks. He was hoping that his Stark blood would be of some help to him, but again the perspectives weren’t that good.

They left Castle Black behind and Jon was in a terrible mood after being confronted by the red woman. That witch would never leave him alone, or let the matter of her false prophesies rest for enough time for Jon to accept her presence again.

“She is persistent, I’ll give her that.” Jon broke the silence in a sour tone. Val nodded.

“Aye. She gives me chills too. Too much of evil and dark things in her.” Val replied with a scorn. “Half mad is that one and her devil god.”

“I’ve had too much of her false prophesies and it did me no good. I’m not the Lord Commander anymore, but if I were I would have already sent her away along with Stannis wife and daughter.” Jon replied dryly.

“What will be of them now that the Southern King is dead?” She asked.

“They’ll go back to Dragonstone, or they’ll keep fighting to put the girl on the throne. If that happens I might support her claim and have an ally to fight with me against the one who slain my family.” His answer was practical but it was clear that Jon Snow had little interest in fighting for the impure girl. That child should have been sacrificed long ago, Val knew, but the kneelers had no sense when it came to illness such as that. The child was doomed and it would be kinder to put an end to her miserable life.

“What about Winterfell? Will you have it for your castle and be a lord?” Val was curious about the castle that Mance have talked about for years. The castle that Bael, The Bard, invaded and that was home to the northern princess he stole.

“I will take it back from the Boltons, but I’m not sure if I can sustain my claim. I’m Eddard Stark natural son, and I suppose that even a bastard Stark would be better than any Bolton, but it is more complicated than that. At least I’ll have my vengeance and for me it’s enough.”

It would never be enough. She didn’t know much about kneelers and their awkward ways, but she started to understand them a bit. Jon was ambitious and greedy; vengeance would never be enough for him since now he could conquer his castle and be a Lord. The concept of it was awkward to her, but it was how things worked in his world and Jon would never be content with half of his ambitions. He wanted everything.

“I may travel to White Harbor to talk with Lord Manderly. He was the wealthiest of my father’s banners. He may support me with men and supplies, just enough to reach the northern clans and ask for their loyalty. I don’t have much hope about it, though. Half of his daughters and granddaughters are married to Freys. I hope to get the Mormonts, and Siggur and Allys have already sworn me fealty. Umbers, Hornwoods and Glovers will follow. There’s no lost love between them and Bolton. They will rejoice with a chance to hunt Roose and his bastard just to bring me their heads. That would be sweet, Val. Sweetest than a woman’s body and summer wine.”

“You speak like a mad man.”

“This is precisely what I am.” He answered with a dark voice. “A man with nothing else to lose is the most dangerous foe. Boltons, Freys and Lannisters, they killed my family and put my home to the torch. I have enough reason to want them all dead and I’ll make sure that they will pay me back. Targaryens used to threat their enemies with fire and blood, but I’ll teach mine to fear the dark nights and the snow storms. Winter is coming to all of them.”

He had truly lost his soul when his life was given back. Val shivered both with cold and fear. Jon became silent after a while and she decided that he had enough rage in him without someone asking questions about his enemies. The way he spoke made him sound as if he intended to make enemies in every one of the seven kingdoms.

After two days of intense riding, they reached East Watch. The castle was poorly guarded, despite of the late reinforcements. The ship called Winter’s Rage was a great gale, with a numerous crew and a few cabins for eventual passengers.

Jon asked to talk with the captain of the ship, or anyone with whom he might negotiate. Val stood out of his way, just observing how he negotiated with those men. She got tired soon enough, but there was no place for her to rest without being disturbed. She found the ship the most amazing thing she ever saw and decided that instead of rest she should explore it a bit.

It was what she was doing when her eyes saw something in the shadows. She waited to see if it was any sailor trying to get her alone.

“Who’s there?!” She asked with her spear in hand. A woman came out of the shadow. No…Not yet a woman. Just a girl of four-and-ten or close enough to make no difference.

“Are you a wildling?” The girl asked with genuine curiosity. Her hair was dark and reached her shoulder, her face was pretty and her eyes were grey. Something in her reminded Val of someone, but she couldn’t tell who.

“I am of the freefolk.” She answered with no sympathy.

“What are you doing this side of the Wall then?” The girl asked while getting closer. Her eyes were bright with enthusiasm.

“This is none of your business, girl. Who are you anyway? A whore?” Val asked sharply. The girl turned her head on the other way.

“No. I’m just someone trying to go back home.” She answered. “I heard the men talking about guests. Are you one of them?”

“I suppose so.” Val answered. “I’m here as a guard.”

“I see. Is it an important man? Your master, I mean. Is he The King Beyond The Wall?” Val made an angry face at her question.

“He is not a king, or my master!”

“Then why you fight to protect him? Do you love him?” The girl insisted. What an insufferable creature.

“He saved my sister’s baby and my people, but he’s not my master.” Val insisted, although she had to agree that Lord Snow gave more orders than any man she ever met before. She was about to turn her back to the girl when she saw the enormous wolf behind her.

The beast was not supposed to be there, but again Val doubted that anyone but Snow could tame the giant wolf. Ghost looked at them with his red eyes and for a moment Val wondered if that animal had some kind of wise intelligence. His eyes looked almost human to her.

Ghost walked calmly toward her, but ignored her presence as if she was invisible. The strange girl had made no sound and instead of running away from the beast, she waited for him to come closer to her. She offered Ghost her hand to sniff, when the beast could take of her whole arm with a single bite.

The wolf sniffed her hand and licked her fingers with intimacy, almost in the same way he used to do with his master. The girl lowered her body to hide her face in Ghost fur and pet him as if the direwolf were nothing but a pup.

“Ghost!To me, Ghost!” Jon’s voice called from a difference, but the animal didn’t move. He was far too pleased with the attention she was paying to him. “Ghost!” His voice was closer now and soon Val saw him with his sober face and body all wrapped in dark attires.

Jon froze in his place and for a moment his face got pale. There was confusion in his eyes and his hands were shaken. He looked like someone hunted by a phantom, while his eyes couldn’t turn away from the strange girl playing with his direwolf.

“I must be truly mad.” He whispered. “My mind is playing cruel tricks on me.”

He gave a step in the girl’s direction. Val turned her head to see her face. The girl had tears in her eyes, while she looked at Jon holding to a small sword hanged at her waist.

“Then we are both mad, because I see the ghost of my brother.” The girl said and her voice almost broke Val’s heart. Was it really possible? “Is that really you? You are alive…”

“Or are we both dead?” He completed. The girl run to him as fast as a deer and Jon grabbed her by the waist when she jumped to his arms.

He held her tightly, almost as if he feared that the girl would vanish like smoke. He kissed her forehead and mussed her dark hair, while his face was divided between tears and a joyous smile. The girl grabbed his cloak and hided her face in his covered chest. If they weren’t so alike, Val would have guessed that they were lovers reunited after almost a lifetime.

“I’m here. Hush now, you are safe.” He muttered to the sobbing girl. “The gods have brought you back to me and I won’t leave you again. You are at home, Arya. You are with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to anticipate the my plans and update this fanfic a couple of ours earlier. This author is out to have some delicious cake while helping a friend in a crisis. I hope you like the chapter and feel all the love of this reunion!  
> Reviews appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

It felt just like being reborn for a second time, he realized. At first there was no air in his lungs and everything around him was bitter cold as he felt physical pain as the air made his lungs expand. Then his heart started to beat again, faster and stronger, and his body got warm all of a sudden. At first he was afraid that the image of that girl would vanish, but when she run to him…When Jon held her in his arms and smell the familiar scent in her hair, all seemed very clear, very real to him.

She had come back to him and his heart was once more alive.

Jon asked for private chambers so they could talk. He had a steward looking for cloths that suited her and in half an hour Arya was in front of him, wearing a dark wool dress, gloves and furs to make her warm. He smiled at the sight of her. Although the cloths were far from the luxurious ones she should wear as a northern princess, they still made her look more like she used to.

His heart was anxious and joyful. He felt just like a green boy of six-and-ten, too happy with the world to ever care about war and winter. She was all that mattered.

“Please, have a sit.” He said to her pointing a comfortable chair where she could rest a bit. “I’ve asked for some mulled wine to keep us warm. The gods know that the weather at the Wall can be unforgiving.”

Arya nodded and calmly took her sit. There was another sit for him, but Jon ignored it. He got on his knees to look her in the eyes and make sure that she wasn’t another impostor, or some kind of illusion. She was different now that her baby fat has gone and her face had changed into something more harmonic and feminine. She had grown into a pretty young woman, he noticed with a pang in his heart. _When did that happened? Why did that happened without him being aware of such a fact?_

“Am I that different that you can’t recognize me anymore?” She asked and Jon noticed that there was a bit of insecurity in her voice. He had been staring at her for too long. He touched her face with his burned hand and smiled to her.

“No, little sister. I would have recognized you anywhere.” He said, but that wasn’t entirely true. She could have fooled him for a while if she had put her mind to it. Arya could pretend to be someone else and Jon would hardly uncover her disguise, but she didn’t have to know this. “I just find it hard to believe that you are here with me.”

“I came back hopping you find your murderers, but then I heard the rumors of your resurrection during my journey. Some say that you had a pact with seven devils, others say that you are a god, and some dare say that you are the Great Other.” She said calmly before touching his face. Her fingers were calloused and rough. For a second he wondered what might have happened to her to get hands like the ones of a lifetime servant. Her voice was sweet enough, though, and he appreciated the sound of it as if it was the most exquisite music he had ever heard. “I only see the same Jon Snow, with a few scars to show. What happened, Jon?”

“I wish that I could tell you, little sister.” He answered with a faint smile. She would never know how cold and bloody it was. She would never listen to the voices he had heard at the other side, or see the flames that tormented his dreams more often than not. Dragon flames they were, like an incandescent hell. “I was stabbed several times and everything blacked out. I woke up at the next day, on my own funeral pyre. I didn’t feel the flames, or anything else. I can’t explain it, but the Red Woman insists that I am some sort of hero.”

“I don’t care if you are a hero or a devil. You are alive and that’s all what I care about.” She was smiling but there was a shadow on her eyes that worried him. She lacked the vitality and the warmth she always had in her voice and eyes. “Why they stabbed you for? Weren’t you the lord commander?”

“They named me a traitor and an oath breaker.” The words were harsh to her and Jon could tell it by the way her eyes widened. Once he had been her big brother and a model of conduct…If she only knew what he had done since he came to the Wall…If she only knew what he had done for her. “I defended the freefolk, I helped Stannis Baratheon when he promised that he would take Winterfell from the Boltons, and I was determinate to march to reclaim it and save you. There was an impostor, you see. Someone claiming to be Arya Stark and they married the girl to a monster called Ramsay Snow.”

She lowered her body a bit and for a moment her lips were so close to his that Jon felt the familiar expectation for intimacy. She kissed his cheek though, as a sister should do to a brother. Jon closed his eyes and mussed the hair at her nape gently. Nothing could be more intimate and significant than that.

“Thank you for never giving up on me.” She whispered closely to his ear. “Take me home, Jon. Let us go home and be happy again.”

“We are going home.” He kissed her cheek lightly and caressed her hair. Her smell was familiar, like snow, pine trees and wild berries. “We are going home with an army. I’ll send word to every one of father’s banners and summon them to pledge us fealty. We will take Winterfell back and give justice to Robb and your mother.” To say it out loud sent a shiver through his spine and set something within him on fire.

“When the time comes, and the battle begins…I beg you, Jon. Don’t try to hold me back. Let me have my share on the carnage and deliver justice to the ones who wronged our family. Dress me in steel and let me ride and fight by your side. I was at the Twins’ gates when it happened. I heard the cries and they hunt me at night…Let me fight, Jon. Let me sleep again without nightmares.”

The sound of her voice was dark and cruel, but what she asked had little to do with violence and a lot to do with justice. He could feel her thirst for the traitor’s blood and it made his heart race and his blood got warmer. Despite of his wishes to keep her safe, this dark Arya spoke very eloquently to his vicious self. They shared the same blood after all and if she wanted to fight by his side like a northern version of queen Visenya, he would never deny her such a pleasure. Not when he was so fascinated by the sight of this winter queen.

“Whatever you want, my little Visenya. We can flay the Bolton bastard together, if you want.” He gave her a grin. “I wonder about what kind of devils you’ve found along your way and it scares me. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you carry all of them with you. My sister is no long an innocent child, but I love you no less. In fact, we may have much more in common now.”

She said nothing for a while. Her hand kept caressing his face and his hair as if Arya was memorizing every line of his expression. Jon kissed her hands when someone knocked the door. He rose from the floor and gave permission to a steward to bring the mulled wine in. Jon served her personally and delighted with the sight of her drinking and smiling lightly at the familiar taste.

They drunk wine and shared some venison stew with bread and hard cheese. Arya told him about Braavos and the voyage back to Westeros. He could tell that she was avoiding giving him much details of her life there, but she was safe and that was all that mattered. She told him about her dancing teacher, and the time with Yoren. She told him about some stupid boy with a bull’s helmet and the Hound.

It was getting late in the night and both of them needed some rest, but neither of them was willing to put an end to the long conversation. It had been several years without seeing each other after all. The fire was cracking and warming the room. Jon sat on her bed and Arya lay with her head on his lap and his cloak covering them like a blanket. For a moment he wished that night to last forever.

“The wildling woman…” Arya broke the silence.

“Her name is Val.” Jon added, making her frown.

“Is she your lover?” She finally asked, making him laugh heartily.

“Where this came from? She’s just a friend and a good fighter, which can be quite handy sometimes.” Jon said in a humorous tone. “I have no time to entertain myself with female companion. I have a war to fight and a woman can be a very sweet and lethal distraction.”

Arya raised her face a little bit to look him in the eyes. Upset, was she? Probably his choice of words hadn’t been the most appropriate, but she wasn’t a distraction. She wasn’t even a woman, or at least it was that what he chose to believe despite of her looks.

“What exactly I am then, since you don’t think of me as a woman, or even a female for that matter? Am I bothering you already, Jon? Are you distracted enough to forget about our war?” Her voice was low and sharp. Oh he did upset her, but her indignation was much more alluring than annoying.

“You are one of my kind. You are my pack and I’m done with being a lonely wolf.” He threw his head back and stared at the roof for a while. Awkward as it may seems, he hadn’t had that kind of intimacy with someone for a long time and her voice, her touch and her smell were soothing his worries like only home could do to a lost man. That was it. For the first time in forever he felt at home.

“Father told me something about winter and lonely wolfs once. I’ve been looking for a pack since then.” She whispered.

Jon looked at her fondly, with a tender smile playing on his lips. He caressed her face and played with a lock of her hair.

“You don’t have to worry about that, little sister. You have me now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally they can talk and get acquainted with what they have become after all the tragedy. My goal here was to make the scene as intimate as possible. There are a lot of things they are afraid to say and ask, there's a lot to be done, the world is falling apart and the only thing they want is for this moment to never end.  
> I really hope you like it. Reviews are always welcome!


	10. Jeyne

A raven arrived at the eve of Jon Snow’s return and the words had turned Castle Black restless. She had spent a few hours with Theon at his cell, talking to him and trying to give him some hope. They both knew that those were empty words, though.

Jeyne was somehow resigned to her fate, and fortunately it had been much kinder than she expected. Jon Snow had, after all, been an honorable man. He gave her shelter and promised to avenge her and her family, which she believed with her whole heart. He had never been kind to her before, and surely Jeyne couldn’t expect him to be now, at least he hadn’t punished her for the lie and for that she was thankful.

It was the second part of the massage that made her worried enough for even Theon to realize.

“What is it that is making you troubled?” He asked in a husky voice. He sounded like an ancient man and looked like a ghost. “Is it Jon Snow? Have him done anything to you?”

Jeyne looked at him quietly for a while. He used to be handsome years ago, almost as handsome as Robb. Back then she would have kissed him any time he asked, but now…She would kiss him any time, not because of his pitiful looks, but because he was the only one who truly cared about her.

“They found her.” Jeyne said, making Theon look oddly at her.

“You mean Arya Stark?” He asked in shock and Jeyne nodded at him. “I thought she was dead. She had to be!”

“One more thing they share. They both should be dead, but they are not.” Her voice sounded bitter. “He would never live this world without her.”

“Be careful of your words. They might displease the only man that could kill Ramsay Bolton now.” His voice shook at the sound of Ramsay’s name, and so did she. One more thing that they shared.

“Any word about your sentence?” Jeyne changed subjects and Theon sighted.

“Not yet. Truth be told, I would receive death gladly now and Jon would probably the kindest executor that I would ever get after what I did. I may give him one last bit of truth before I go, and my debt will be paid.” He whispered and there were tears in his eyes.

“What is that? You won’t be killed.” She smiled at him and caressed his face lightly. “What is this truth that you want to tell, my friend? Tell me.” Theon kissed her hand pitifully.

“I’ve never done it.” His voice was heartbreaking. “I’ve never killed them. I’ve never found them in the first place.”

“Them who?”Jeyne asked.

“The boys. Bran and Rickon, they escaped in the dead of the night. The bodies I’ve shown at Winterfell’s gates were some farmer’s kids, not the Stark boys. They could be alive for all that I know. Hodor, the wildling woman and the Reed kids disappeared too. Maybe resurrection is some kind of Stark ability after all.”

Her eyes widened at his confession and a shiver run over her spine. She reminded of Lord Eddard Stark’s face, all stern and sober like any northerner and his voice pronouncing the Stark’s words. _Winter is coming._

 _No…Winter is already upon us and it will be Jon Snow and Arya Stark to command the blood bath._ She thought bitterly. Jeyne couldn’t say for sure, but given the circumstances and what she have seen so far, she felt in her bones that it was just a matter of time until they get the pack together.

She smiled at Theon kindly before living his cell. “Truth may yet set you free, my friend.”

The party arrived by midday, with Jon Snow ahead the group and a girl dressed like a boy by his side, both of them riding like centaurs. Jeyne would have recognized Arya Horse Face any were, except for the fact that the alias didn’t fit her any longer.

When they dismount the horses, Jeyne could see her closely for the first time in years. Even though she was far from being as beautiful as Sansa, Arya grew into a comely girl. _Probably more than me, since she still has a whole nose in her face._ As strange as it may be, Arya wore a small sword and breeches to ride, like some sort of warrior queen. Lady Stark would certainly be shocked by the sight of her daughter in such garments, but Arya Stark being different from girls of her age was never really a surprise. _She could kill me with that sword. Jon Snow wouldn’t stop her._ Jeyne was shaking once more.

Several wildlings surrounded them, eager for the news about the imminent war and their part on it. Arya Stark listened and engaged in the conversation as if she was their equal instead of a lady. _Sansa would never do that. She would smile at them from a distance, like a proper lady. They would respect her and not feel like her equal._ Despite of Arya’s lack of propriety the wildlings seem to find her amusing and even listened to her when she told them about the mountain clans and a the most likely allies they could make.

At some point both Arya and Jon came in her direction. Jon’s eyes were hard and cold as the Wall itself when they sat upon her figure, while Arya seemed to be curious. Jeyne lowered her face and paid her courtesies.

“It’s good to see you, Jeyne.” Arya’s voice sounded truly pleased and it only made Jeyne loose her courage at this point. How could she face the girl she had pretended to be? How could Arya ever forgive her?

“I’m glad that you are alive and well, my lady.” Jeyne answered humbly under Jon’s sever eyes, without even looking at Arya.

“You can call me Arya, if you like.” Arya said kindly. “…I’m not angry at you, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly she was crying and shaking violently. _I don’t deserve it! I don’t deserve her kindness!_ She felt arms around her. Skinny arms in an awkward embrace. Arya Stark was hugging her. After all she have said and done, after all the pranks, the nasty names and the lie…She was still hugging her.

“I have…I have been horrible to you.” Jeyne sobbed. “I don’t deserve this.”

“This is in the past now. I know I’m not Sansa, but…Can we be friends?” And those words made Jeyne cry even more. “I think we have a better chance to survive if we stick together.”

“Yes…” She sobbed, while feeling the purest gratitude for Arya’s words. “I’m sorry, my lady. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. You’ll be fine, now. We will go back home and I promise you that you’ll see Bolton’s head on a spike for what he did to you.”

She never expected such a reaction from Arya. She had always been willful, harsh and unsympathetic toward Jeyne. They had never been friends before, but after King’s Landing, after seen their families being slain and all the hell they had went through, Jeyne couldn’t deny that they had much in common and it felt good to be someone’s friend again.

She would never be thankful enough, but from that day on her loyalty and her life would be Arya’s to command and she would do anything for that girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to see Arya developing strong relationships with other female characters in this fanfic and I guess Jeyne should be the first one. They are about the same age and despite all the atrocities both of them have experienced, it would be nice to see that there's still room for making emends and developing some kind of friendship. I hope you like this chapter and reviews are always welcome.


	11. Arya

Jon showed her the way to his chambers, where she was supposed to stay until they marched South. She had told him over and over again that she didn’t need any supervision, but he insisted on it. _“The Wall is a dangerous place for a woman and I won’t risk your security like this. Trust no one but me, especially the red woman. I don’t want you anywhere near her.”_

He was sounding like a mad man, but Arya said nothing about it. She missed him after all and sharing his room would be just like the nights she sneaked into his bed when she woke up from a nightmare to afraid to go back to sleep alone. Jon never complained about it. He used to hug her, and whisper songs until she felt asleep again.

He asked for food and wine to the steward called Satin. He had a face as beautiful as a summer day and a soft voice that made her think of the days her father would have a singer on the great hall. Sansa loved those occasions and would sing the songs she heard for days, like a little bird. Satin was as pretty as Sansa, she realized.

Jon noticed that she had been staring at the steward for too long and made a funny sound with his throat to call her attention. She looked back at him and no doubt her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. Jon caressed her face lightly and smiled at her.

“Found my steward handsome, have you?” He teased her, making Arya roll her eyes in annoyance.

“Don’t be stupid.” She answered stubbornly. He wasn’t amused by her words, though. Jon took a place across the table, looking at her carefully as if he was trying to find the right words to speak about this thing in his head.

“I don’t want you near Satin.” He finally said it to her, making Arya look at him half disturbed and half confused by his sudden imposition.

“Why is that? He seems to be nice and he is your friend, isn’t he? Why can’t I be friends with him too?” She asked annoyed. Jon turned and twisted in his sit for a moment. “Are you jealous? Is he your lover?”

“What?! Seven hells, no! Where this came from?” Jon nearly chocked and felt from his chair, looking at her with a scandalized face.

“He told me he had been a whore before he came to the Wall. I’ve heard of men that prefer the company of other men. I don’t care if you do.” She said before biting her bottom lip. She would be happy if Jon was happy, but admitting that Jon could love someone more than he loved her was something she would have a hard time dealing with.

Jon looked at her with worry. He did that several times during their journey back to Castle Black, as if he was trying to evaluate the extension of the damaged she had suffered. He never asked, though.

“You are a highborn lady and it’s not appropriate for you to be seen in the company of a former whore.” Jon said calmly. “Although I suspect that you have seen and talked with several of them in the last years. Will you tell me about it?”

“I’ve worked in Braavos. I used to sell clams in the streets and some whores would buy it from me. They were nice. Sometimes they would give me food, sometimes they would give me small gifts and tell me good stories.” She told him as much of the truth as she considered him prepared to deal with. Jon tried to remain calm, but his eyes were getting more and more worried. “I liked them. Some told me that I could make a fortune as one of them.”

Jon punched the wooden table as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Arya’s eyes went wide and her heart was pumping furiously in her chest. Jon closed his eyes and his jaw was tight with anger. His breath was deep and slow while he tried to calm down. She had never seen Jon react like that, not even when her mother was harsh at him without a cause.

“I was never one of them, Jon.” She said shyly, hoping that it would be enough to make him at ease again. “I was never one of them.”

He didn’t seem to listen. Arya rose from her sit and walked toward him. She caressed his face and hair, making Jon close his eyes. His breath was still deep and slow, as if he was trying too hard to not destroy something out of sheer anger. He put his burned hand on top of hers. His lips were curved in a bitter smile.

“I guess I forgot about your natural talent to make the most unusual friends.” He said and his voice sounded worn out. Jon looked tired and probably was. He closed his eyes again. “For months I thought that you were in Bolton’s hands and only the gods can tell you the kind of dreadful things that crossed my mind. I wanted to flay that man alive because I thought he dared to touch you.” Jon kissed the back of her hand. “Please tell me that no one have ever done that to you. Please…Tell me you haven’t suffered the same fate as Jeyne.”

“Jon…” It was when she realized that Jon was crying.

She kissed his face tenderly at the sight of his sudden vulnerability. Not even when they were nothing but children Arya have seen him crying. Jon used to be the one to stand still when she was hurt or upset. He took it upon him to make her smile again.

“I would never forgive myself if…” She silenced him by putting her finger on top of his lips and looking Jon straight in the eyes.

“I would have died fighting.” She said to him with a smile. “You know that I would. Hush now. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere without you. We should get some rest now. You look tired.”

Jon nodded in agreement. Arya excused herself to the privy where she got rid of her heavy garments, changing them for one of Jon’s shirts that were long enough to cover almost half of her legs.

When she came back to the room Jon was already in bed, wearing nothing but his breeches. The fire was burning bright in the fireplace, warming the room and making her feel as if she was back at Winterfell. She went to bed and lay by his side just the way she used to do so many years ago.

Jon put an arm around her waist pulling her body closer to his. Arya doubted that there was any place as warm and safe than his arms.He kissed her neck and the sensation of his beard against her skin made her tickle and giggle. She liked the sensation as much as liked his smell and his low laugh.

“Satin has a soft voice.” She said almost whispering. “Do you know if he sings?”

“I have no idea. Why is that?” Jon asked and she could tell that her question had annoyed him. She remained silent for a second.

“He reminded me of Sansa somehow. He’s as beautiful as her and his voice sounds nice. It made me wonder if he could sing like she used to. I would like to hear some music for a change, like we used to do back in Winterfell when father had a singer at the great hall.” She couldn’t see his face, but Arya was sure that he was smiling.

“I could ask him if you want or I could sing to you instead.” He answered while Arya could feel his fingers playing with locks of her hair.

“I like it when you sing. You have a beautiful voice but you rarely put it to a good use.” Her voice was sounding sleepy at this point and the comfort of Jon’s voice, smell and warmth were carrying her to sleep.

“You know that I don’t like it when others hear me singing, but I don’t mind if you do.” His voice was low and warm when he said it. It was almost a secret whispered close to a lover’s ear and it made Arya feel special, as she have always felt whenever Jon was close.

“Sing to me then.” She yawned.

Jon sang to her about Bael and the Rose of Winter, making Arya sleep and dream about Winterfell and the flowers that father used to take to Lyanna’s grave. Arya had always liked those blue roses of winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading it, I realized that I've skipped a chapter. This is a glimpse of how close Arya and Jon are right now and how this proximity affects them in a very intimate way. I hope you'll like it. Reviews are welcome.


	12. Melissandre

She hadn’t gone to the courtyard to receive Jon Snow and the so called sister. Who could have guessed that Arya Stark would be able to escape King’s Landing alone and survive on her own for so long? She was nothing but a child, they said. Nothing like the extraordinary young lady that Melissandre had expected.

Child or not, that girl had the heart of Jon Snow in a tight grip. Lord Snow had become much more careful with her security and so far he hadn’t allowed Melissandre nowhere near the girl. _Afraid of me, is he? Afraid that I might turn her head against him or simply afraid that I might give her to the flames? She would be a worthy sacrifice, though. Sister of a King, from a lineage as old as the North itself, but Jon Snow would never let me live if anything happened to this girl._

Jon Snow had the wildling princess guarding the girl, and even the impostor was put to service as Arya Stark’s lady in waiting. Not even the queen had seen as much as a gloved hand of this mysterious girl and Jon Snow was making sure that they would march South before any of Stannis’ men could set eyes on her.

Melissandre closed her eyes for a brief second, before opening them to look at the flames more carefully. She had been trying to see something, anything in the flames but so far the Lord Of Light had shown her nothing. _Only shadows I see. Shadows and dragons rising in a distant land._ She was getting tired, but the lack of action would do her no good at all.

The priestess wrapped her dark red cloak around her shoulders before leaving her private chambers. She needed to see the girl and talk to her. Perhaps she could be persuaded to convince Jon Snow that the real enemy was in the North and not in the South. Perhaps she had more sense than her brother had.

A war council had been assembled and letters had been sent to all of the Starks’ bannersmen. Several of them came back announcing the arrival of emissaries and the troops they managed to assemble. The tricky thing would be to make all the northerners accept the presence of the wildlings. Jon Snow spent nearly all of his time locked inside his former office to study the maps and strategies. His lady sister was never far from his sight. In fact she stayed with him for hours and the talk of the Wall was the fact that she had a man’s head for war.

The wildlings called her “devil maid” and “she-wolf” in an affectionate tone. The young ones that had the chance to set eyes on the girl were bold enough to call her “winter rose”, but never when Jon Snow could hear it. They had more sense than to cross the former Lord’s Commander by taking liberties with his beloved sister.

What could be expected of such a girl? Melissandre had little idea. She never seemed to understand the brother and the stories she heard about Arya Stark have made her even more confused.

She walked the familiar path to the King’s Tower, where the council used to stay during the meetings. The absurd quantity of wildlings in Castle Black was turning her daily walks quite a difficult task since there was no lost love between her the those savages.

Melissandre had hoped to get an audience with Jon Snow and consequently get the chance of having a glimpse of this infernal girl called Arya Stark, but she never made it to the King’s Tower.

She spotted the wilding princess talking with a girl that from a distance looked like the impostor Jeyne Poole. The direwolf was by her side, sited while she petted the beast behind its ears as if Ghost was nothing but a pup. There was no mistake about who that girl was. Arya Stark was indeed the female counterpart of her brother.

Jon Snow allowed her to dress in male clothes, but the girl favored a think wool dress that was too simple and plain to suit her rank. The only thing she wore to demonstrate her position was a cloak made with fine shadowcat fur and thick gloves made of the same fine material. _Gifts from her brother to be sure._

Melissandre walked the short distance that separated her from that mysterious girl. She had to talk with her; to have a glimpse of the only girl who ever managed to melt Jon Snow’s frozen heart while Melissandre have never had the chance to get close enough to try.

The girl turned her head to look at the red woman and her face shown curiosity instead of hostility. Her eyes were grey, like a frozen lake and her hair dark brown, a bit lighter than her brother’s curls. Even the shape of their faces was similar, but hers had barely left the childish features behind. _Not a woman yet, but it could be any day now. Will your brother find you a suitable match for a political alliance? Will he ever allow you to warm someone else’s bed?_

Before Melissandre could get too close, the wildling princess had her spear pointed at her. The golden woman was no friend of the red priestess and made no secret of it. She defended the girl as if she was some kind of valuable cargo, like a lioness protecting her cob.

“Snow does not want you near the girl, witch.” Without Stannis support and the queen being nothing but an inconvenient guest Melissandre had lost nearly all of her former influence at the Wall. The wildlings had no use for her and that was never concealed.

“I was simply curious to see Lord Snow’s sister. After all that happened I suppose it’s a normal thing.” Melissandre answered sweetly, trying to sound as pure as any made. That only made the wildling hiss at her.

“Jon seems to be under the impression that I’m a child to be ordered around and protected even from my own shadow.” The girl finally spoke. That was the voice of young woman sure of her own position and importance. A voice that would never be refused. _She is just like her brother._ “He believes that you could try to influence me to make him stay and fight your holly war against whatever it is that lies North of the Wall. As much as I appreciate his concern, I refuse to be commanded about who I should or should not talk to.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, my lady.” Melissandre said it without pay Arya any courtesy.

“I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, but you already know that. Melissandre of Ashai, isn’t it? I’ve seen red priests before. They never let me sleep properly back in Braavos.” The girl said bluntly. “Now we know each other. I wouldn’t think that of much consequence, though. Jon warned me about you and your tricks.”

“I’m sure that you are clever enough to make your own judgment in the matter, my lady.”Malissandre smiled at her in an effort of being sympathetic.

“As you should have known that you should have never used my name to manipulate Jon.” Arya snapped at her _. A she wolf indeed; showing her teeth to protect her mate it would seem._ “Don’t ever try to get near him or to use me to do so. I have no love for red priests, not after seeing what your god does.”

She turned her back to Melissandre before the priestess had the chance to even try to defend herself. She was unforgiving, that was plain enough to see. She was winter itself; cold, devastating and her coldness could burn as much as any flame. That was the enemy she had made without ever knowing of her existence. Arya Stark was made of ice and vengeful wishes.

_She is made of devotion too. Devotion to this man she does not know that she is in love with. If Lady Arya only knew how powerful she could make him be…Maybe she will. She lies by his side every night and although Jon Snow is made of resistant material, he is still a man and she is still a woman. There’s power in the union of male and female…Maybe all I need is a bit of her maiden’s blood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, they won't like each other a single bit. XD  
> Reviews highly appreciated!


	13. Jon

She came to his former office with Val on her heels and Ghost by her side. No matter what he said to her, Arya would always do as it pleased her. Once he had known that anything denied to her used to become her heart’s dearest wish. It seemed that he have lost this perception along the years, but her wild-self made Jon no less happy than it used to.

Val didn’t bother to come in this time. The wildling woman simply gave them a look that Jon could not classify. He appreciated her sensibility and discretion. He would rather have some minutes alone with Arya, before receiving any of the freefolk’s chiefs to discuss war strategies and supplies. He would rather be alone with her forever and forget that there was a war about to begging and he was supposed to command it.

She came to him, but didn’t bother to ever touch him or talk to him. She looked to the maps and letters spread all over the wooden table. Arya was anxious and restless. She wanted her share of the carnage and nothing would dissuade her from this notion, no matter how much he wanted to keep her safe.

He wouldn’t deny her vengeance, though. He knew better than to try to tame a creature as wild as she. Arya would do whatever she wanted and unless Jon was looking for a war between them he would never have the unfortunate idea of refusing her anything. As long as she stood by his side, Jon would grant her every wish.

“You wanted to see me.” She said breaking the silence between them. She was not asking if he did. She simply stated it as if it was his duty to tell her what he wanted. What he wanted indeed…

His face got warm and for a moment Jon wondered if he was blushing like a maiden. He wished he knew how to approach the matter, or if it would be for the good to forget what happened. He would feel like a traitor, though. Her eyes would continue to follow him everywhere, waiting for an answer, an explanation, but Jon had no idea how to give it to her.

He observed her profile for a while. Arya bitted her bottom lip as she used to do since she was a child. So many things in her still reminded him of childhood. Why couldn’t it last forever and save him the embarrassment?

Jon closed his burned hand, feeling the hardened joints protest against the movement. He wanted to touch her lips for no reason at all. He wanted to touch them and feel the texture and the softness of it. Her nose, he noticed…He wanted to kiss it along with her rose cheeks. His conscience seemed to be drifting away, getting cloudy and confused as the hours tic by. He wondered what was happening with him. He wondered why he craved for the sensation of her skin against his, all warm and soft like a memory of home.

He couldn’t find in him the courage to talk about that morning nor the shame he felt for waking up aroused by the ordinary proximity between their bodies. Probably it had been too long since he last had a woman. Since Ygritte he refused female company to avoid problems, but so far he had never considered that Arya could make him feel…Alive.

“A raven arrived today from Greywater Watch.” He finally answered her, but not what Arya was expecting. “Howland Reed is coming to the Wall personally, with a good number of his men.”

“Wasn’t him a great friend of father?” Arya asked curiously.

“Indeed. The second survivor of the Tower of Joy. His children were with Bran when the Iron Men attacked.” The pang in his chest was hard to take. He wished it to be true…The things Theon had said to him, he wished it all to be true.

“They can still be alive, Jon.” She said looking at him for the first time. Jon fought the urge to hug her tight and burry his nose in the curve of her neck. He wanted to believe that, but after so many disappointments with impostors pretending to be Arya Stark, he lacked the strength to believe his brothers could be alive as well.

“I wouldn’t have much hope, little sister.” He said it as if every world cost him five years.

“I was alive all this time, stupid.” She insisted and before Jon could prevent it her hand was on his cheek, caressing his face. Jon closed his eyes and tried to not think about the urge of getting her closer to his body and the shameful curiosity about the taste of her lips.

The silence between them became thick and asphyxiating; heavy with the weight of the questions unspoken and the utter curiosity that danced around them. Her eyes…Her fierce and fascinating eyes made infinite questions that he dared not to answer. She could feel it, though. She have a notion of it since the moment he lost the control over the thought that another man could have dared to touch what was his.

His fingers went straightly to her hair to mess it just the way he always loved to. He wouldn’t mind to stay like that forever. It was safe, it was pleasant…It wasn’t enough anymore.

“Will we talk about this morning or we shall pretend that nothing happened?” Jon closed his eyes while his body was taken by waves of cold water and liquid fire all at once. His heart nearly stopped, but her hand never left his face.

Sometimes he wished that Arya one day would learn to not speak everything that came to her mind, but that wasn’t the day.

“Forgive me…” He took a deep breath when he felt her hand on his neck and her fingers playing with locks of his hair. “It won’t happen again. I shall find you a proper chamber and you can share it with Val and Jeyne if you want.”

“I don’t want to share a room with neither of them.” Arya insisted, looking at him with fierce determination.

“A room of your own then. It’s not right for a lady to share a bed with a man that’s not her husband, even if this man is her brother.” That was his duty talking, while every fiber in his body screamed the opposite.

He could not take it. He could not agree with her being sent away from him especially when he could barely understand what he was and what he should be. Arya was his anchor; the very breath in his lungs.

“I won’t have it.” She defied him with her eyes without blinking. Stubborn little thing!

“Arya…” Her name escaped his lips in a growl.

“You were dreaming this morning. You called my name just like this and wrapped your arms around my waist.” She whispered, making him feel the disgust rising within him and being whipped away by the touch of her hands. “I like it when you say my name.”

Her eyes…They’ve dragged him into that frozen pool of infinite shades of grey and blue. Like a spell, like an enchantment, like drowning, he allowed her to take away his continence while her face came close to his.

The lips he had spent infinite hours wondering about the taste and softness, brushing against his own as smoothly as a feather. Not a kiss. That was a provocation. That was an invitation for him to answer or to refuse.

Arya should have never done that…She should have never set the beast within him free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that kind of awkward situation would happen soon or later, and if someone must be the bold and brave one, of course it would be Arya.  
> I hope you like it. I'm not sure if there will be an up date tomorrow, because I'm traveling right now, but I'll do my best to up date it.   
> Reviews are highly appreciated!


	14. Val

The night was silent and the cold wind announced that winter was just beginning. She had gone through situations far more difficult than to face winter south of the Wall and defending a kneeler princess. Val sighted at the thought of Jon Snow’s sister. She had yet to make up her mind about that girl.

Val could admit that she liked the skinny girl. If she had been born elsewhere, Arya Stark would have been a superb spearwife. She-wolf, the others called her that whenever she gave them a glimpse of her sharp teeth and mind. Pretty lads had already made their thoughts about the girl clear. Soon enough one of them would try to repeat Bael’s accomplishment and steal the Winter Rose. _Only to face death by the crow’s blade._ The thought felt bitter in her tongue.

Although she liked Arya as she would like a witty young sister, Val couldn’t help the feeling that there was something wrong between the girl and her true brother. They were much alike, with their pretty faces, dark hair and eyes like a frozen lake. The same sense of superiority that noble kneelers usually had and the mind for warfare. They even shared the same devotion to each other, although Val thought that last trait to be particularly troublesome.

She had seen the way they looked at each other back in East Watch. The way they hugged and the tears barely contained in the corner of their eyes. The hands…She had seen the hands eager for the touch, as if they needed them to map each other’s face. She had seen brothers and sisters carrying about each other but never like that. She had seen lovers just as desperate and probably that was what she had a hard time trying to figure out.

It was a sin to steal a woman of his own blood and Jon Snow knew that. One should steal a woman from a place as far as possible to avoid the curse that followed the offspring of couples that shared the same blood. She heard about kings in the south that road dragons and wed their sisters. All of them mad.

If that girl was the reason why Jon Snow had never looked at Val twice, she couldn’t help to feel pity. He broke his vows for the sake of Arya’s security; he would gladly die if that meant to save her.

She suspected that Jon had already stolen her for himself, or would do it as soon as his mind gave up fighting against his heart’s wish. They already shared a room and a bed. How long until the lips search for comfort and the hands to get anxious and avid? How long until that madness consume both of them like the flames of the red woman?

Val turned in bed once more and raised the furs up to her neck in an effort of falling asleep without much success. Her mind refused to be quiet.

It was the sound of a furious fist knocking at her door that made Val jump out of bed with a sharp knife in hand. She opened the door, just enough to recognize the figure covered in black attires and the pretty face of Jon Snow.

She opened the door to give him passage and he entered her room without as much as a thank you for an answer. That was very unlike the boy full of good manners and respectful gestures. Judging by the looks of his face that man she once fancied had been taken by some sort of madness.

His eyes were wide and his face paler than usual. Jon was restless and anxious, walking from one point to another without even realizing it. Something was wrong, she knew. Val just wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what have happened.

“Is anything wrong?” She finally asked, dragging him back to reality.

For the first time Jon looked her straight in the eyes. He kept staring at her as if it was the first time Jon actually saw her and not only another wildling woman that was not Ygritte.

“You are beautiful.” He said it to her, not as a compliment or a way to get closer to her affections. It was more like something he had just realized, but meant nothing to him when it should be of some consequence.

Val didn’t know what to say. She looked back at him out of confusion and waited to see if anything else would come out this rampant.

He came to her blindly, taking her face in his calloused hands before clashing his lips against hers in a hurry, like an eager boy that had never lain with a woman before. It took her by surprise and it wasn’t at all displeasing, although his lips shown her little kindness or interest.

Jon pressed her against the wall, with his hands falling at her tunic’s neckline to rip it off of her body. He kissed her with the hunger of a wolf and for a second Val considered that maybe she had been imagining things when seeing the way he act toward his sister.

Val lowered her free hand to touch him intimately. She caressed him over his breeches, trying to feel how hard he was for her. Jon growled against the skin of her neck. His breath heavy and labored. He closed his eyes before kissing her again.

She called his name in a whisper and it was all it took for him to look at her again and immediately take his hands out of her. Val looked at him even more confused than before, but suddenly realized that he wasn’t being himself. He punched the wall, still keeping Val trapped between his arms. His eyes were wild, like a beast thirsty for blood.

“Why can’t you be her?” His voice came out but he didn’t seem to be aware of his words. They simply came out like an unwanted confession. “Why can’t you make me feel as she does?”

He finally let her go and it was clear enough that nothing else would come out his sudden need for woman companion.

“Who is she?” Val asked in an effort of sympathy, although her pride was severely hurt by his actions. Jon looked at her apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Val. I should not have disturbed your sleep or treated you so poorly. I’m just….”He took a deep breath. “I’m just confused.”

“That much I could figure out. You are pretty sure of what you want, though. I’m simply not the one you want.”Her voice was filled with anger and resentment. Well, she could deal with the fact that he didn’t want her, but she would remind him that he owned her some respect. Jon lowered his face immediately, just like a boy that had done something very wrong. “Maybe you should say the worlds. Maybe you should admit it and try to move on from there.”

He looked at her as if it was Val the one who lost her mind. A man like him would sooner slit his own throat than to confess anything about his feelings to anyone. Jon remained silent and miserable. Val sighted out of frustration, looking at him through the corner of her eyes.

“You know that it’s wrong.” She said bluntly, observing his jaw tightening at the mention of it. “I’m not here to tell you about the things that you know. Instead I’ll tell about the things that I see. You love her, you’ve always had. The thing that you don’t know and it’s plain to anyone with eyes is that you are in love with her.”

“Don’t say that.” He begged.

“But you are. You can either fight it, or you can give in. It’s your choice and hers. It won’t be long until someone takes her anyway. Let her marry a kneeler or another for all I care. After that you can try to be the crow you’ve always been again. Just don’t try to use me as if I was some kind of possession or compensation.”

“The day she marries another man will be the day that I’ll lose everything. With her alive I don’t have a claim to Winterfell. When she marries, it will be her husband’s duty to keep her claim, not mine. She won’t need me anymore and only the gods can say if I’ll ever see her again.” He talked absently and every word came out of his mouth heavy with panic. He didn’t need a lover to take his sister’s place. He needed a friend to hear about his fears and to provide him with a different perspective. If only he hadn’t done her wrong. “I’m sorry, Val.” He said it one last time. She sighted again.

“I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is possibly my favorite chapter so far for a number of reasons. Jon is out of his mind and loosing the battle against who he was before his death. Denial isn't working anymore. My favorite thing about this chapter is Val, though. She likes Arya and she had a crush on Jon, but even when she admits it Val isn't willing to become a substitute for Arya. I guess this is the end of the enchantment. She doesn't approve of what she is certain that he will do, but she won't try to stop him. After this, there's no place for Jon in her heart as anything but a friend.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are appreciated.


	15. Melissandre

She lit the fire and looked closely at it as if trying to see with more clarity what was ahead of her, already knowing that the flames would provide no answers. Although Jon Snow had been reborn from smoke and salt as the prophecy said, his conscience was still dormant.

No matter what she told him, the former Lord Commander would never accept the truth of the Lord of the Light unless someone he held close to his heart lead the way. The grey girl, the she-wolf was probably as skeptic as her brother, if not worst. A cold energy could be sensed from that child woman and Melissandre had rarely seen a soul as dark as hers.

There was only one way to wake Jon’s conscience to the matters of greatest importance and his role in that game. If there was any way to make him susceptible to her glamour; if only he would allow her to touch him even for a moment; thing would be simpler. She would gladly take his manhood inside her and make him wake up to his new life as champion of the light.

That would never happen as long as the girl was near. With Arya Stark by his side, Jon Snow was blind to all women. _What a pity. I would have enjoyed my duty to the Lord every single bit. That girl can’t even be considered a woman, but she’ll have to do._

Melissandre picked her potions carefully. It wasn’t just a matter of influence. Jon Snow would take the girl as his lover easily enough even without Melissandre’s spells, but once the resolution settled within him the Red Priestess needed them to act not like to animals in heat. In some ways that kind of ritual was very much like matrimony and once their energies were canalized they would have to reach pleasure together. _A beautiful metaphor for the making of Lightbringer. Let him take the girl’s blood. She is from the lineage of the Old Kings of Winter. The blood of her maidenhead should be enough to wake the hero in him._

The Red Priestess undressed her body as she stood in the center of her room, illuminated by a circle of candles placed on the floor. The air was heavy with the smell of dried roses, sandalwood, cinnamon and jasmine. She rubbed vermilion on her forehead and took a sip from a chalice full of wine sweetened with honey.

She made a brief enchantment of protection, to keep the dark forces away once the ritual started. Melissandre walked, following the line of the circle and summoning the power of the four lighthouses singing a mantra in old valyrian. As the rhythm increased she started to dance in circles, waving her arms and hands sinuously until she felt to her knees in the center of the circle in position of reverence.

Melissandre breathed slowly while trying to concentrate in the flames. The gentle warmth on her skin and the image of the fire sensuously dancing, like lovers in the night. _To be a maiden again…It has been such a long time since I was one. How would it feel like? How was it really?_

The Red Priestess straightened her back once more. She poured a bit of rose essence on her hands and slowly spread it all over her naked body. She caressed her breast while keeping the image of a lover made of flames in her mind. Her mind in flames, her soul in flames, her heart in flames, her sex in flames. _Come, my Lord! Master of Life, make me your bride today! Feel me with light and unbound pleasure._

Her hand went down her flat belly. Her nails gently scratched her skin as she savored the pleasures of a calculated touch on her bare skin.

She laid her back on the cold floor and spread her legs wide open. Melissandre carefully touched her folds as she threw her head back. She closed her eyes as her fingers started to work.

“ _Untouched, I come before you, My Lord!”_ She said in old valyrian, as her hand massaged the swollen bud of flesh hidden under the curls that covered her sex. _“Clean of body and soul, I make a sacrifice of blood and purity. I bare my heart and give it to you. Trespass it with the sword of swords and through me let be light in the world.”_

Her fingers sank in her wetness as her prays were interrupt by sights and moans barely contained. Melissandre allowed the warm sensation in her low abdomen to engulf her and take over her senses as she concentrated in the image of Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa. The ecstasy of being a living sacrifice to her god; feeling every fiber or her being, like the hero’s wife whose heart had been pierced by the holy blade to allow the champion of the light to save the world from darkness.

 _“Make this body your temple and fill me with the pain and ecstasy of being your chosen one.”_ Her voice was uneven as Melissandre approached her climax. Fluids dripping from her sex as her fingers moved in and out. _“With this sacrifice of blood, I call you, my beloved! Give me your light! Give me your light! Give me your light!”_

The waves of pleasure came, making her body convulsed. Melissandre kept her fingers moving as the image of a couple entwined and surrounded by fire melted in her mind until there was nothing the blinding light.

Her pleasure lasted for long minutes without losing its intensity. Celibacy had proven to be a useful tool in this. Had her been settled in her sexual appetites, the charm wouldn’t be so effective. Once she was done, Melissandre came back to her feet and threw a drop of her fluids in the fire. With her dirty fingers she drew a line between her breasts. _There’s one more thing I need._

The Red Priestess blew all the candles and went all of her room. On her way she passed by the former Lord Commander’s bedchamber.

With an intimate satisfaction Melissandre enjoyed the sounds of lust and pleasure coming from inside the room and a small cry of a woman in sweet pain. She couldn’t help grinning at it before she could move forward.

She stopped and Jeyne Poole’s door and knocked.

The girl came out after a minute, rubbing her sleepy eyes and yawning. Melissandre didn’t allow the girl to say a word.

“Tomorrow you’ll exchange the sheets of Jon Snow’s room. You’ll bring the sheets to me.” Melissandre commanded. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lady.” Jeyne nodded briefly. “What for?”

“This is none of your business. Just do as I say and go back to your bed now.” After saying that, the Red Priestess turned and went back to her room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...Mel is creep as fuck XD.  
> The idea of this sex magic is basically induce Jon and Arya to consummate the damn thing and turn the sexual act into a sacrifice to the Lord of Light, so Jon can finally become who he was meant to be, according to Melissandre's perception. The Prince that was promised. If it will work or not, it's for you to tell.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are most welcome!


	16. Arya

She waited for him in bed for hours until she felt asleep. It was late when he came without a word about where he had been, awakening her. Jon simply laid beside her, trying too hard to not touch her skin. _Lost in his thoughts._

He hadn’t said a world about the kiss. He hadn’t said a world about anything at all. Jon simply remained in bed facing the roof of their room, thinking about everything and nothing. His anxiety could be felt at distance. It came in waves of confusion, frustration and panic. She pretended to be sleeping just to watch him closely for a while and try to figure out what would happen next. She could only hope that Jon would not send her away to avoid his own conscience and desire.

Yes, it was desire; the very opposite of everything their love was supposed to be, a sin only Targaryens could afford to commit, and the simple thought of it made her feverish.

She had seen it before in the eyes of men, although she hasn’t tasted it the way the whores in Braavos had. It was a vague concept and a wicked one at that. All of this would only make her curious and her curiosity had always been implacable and troublesome. If it wasn’t for it, she would have never kissed him. But she did and now she had to deal not only with his confusion, but with her own.

At first she was shocked to realize how his body reacted to hers. Soon the shock became curiosity and she could not fight the urge to touch him, like some sort of compulsion or magnetic effect. Then Arya started to realize how much she liked to look at his face, to admire his hands moving over maps and letters and the sensation of his fingertips at her scalp. She liked his smell that reminded her of home.

It wasn’t a surprise to her to find him handsome. She had always had. His eyes, his strong jawline and his perfectly harmonious nose. She liked the color of his hair and the paleness of his skin along with the shape of his lips. He was tall and slender, fast and agile like a shadowcat. She even liked his silence as much as she liked his voice and smile, for they resonated with her own silence and voice in some kind of understanding.

Jon shifted his body to look directly at her, giving Arya a startle. She closed her eyes and tried to ease her breath, while she could feel his eyes staring at her in the dark. Her heart was beating faster now, as if she was a child again and mother had found her playing with swords. Jon touched her hair, making her shiver. She felt his fingers brushing against her cheeks while his eyes remained still, just observing her every movement.

“I know that you are not sleeping.” He finally spoke. His voice was nothing but a gentle whisper.

Arya opened her eyes lazily, to give him a few more seconds to decide what he wanted and for her to reunite all of her courage. His face was serene at last; as if some sort of ancient knowledge had settled within him, giving Jon a drop of peace of mind. She wished for that same kind of peace when everything she could find in her life was blood and rage. Jon was this resource of infinite tranquility even if after his death he had acquired darker mood. A place where she could lay down her head and put her fears to rest; a place where her own sins were not only forgivable but also welcome.

He said nothing more to her. He didn’t need to.

His fingers brushed against the skin of her cheeks and the line of her neck, making her shiver and close her eyes almost immediately. Jon unlaced the knots of the shirt she wore, making her heart race as his hands revealed the bare skin of her shoulders and the peeks of her breasts.

She felt his lips brushing against hers, provoking her in the same way she had provoked him. Only this time Jon had decided to show her that he was older, wiser, and that he knew better than her what he was doing.

He opened his mouth, allowing his tongue to run the path between her sealed lips asking for permission to enter. She gave in without much resistance. She even remembered of a man in Braavos that offered to teach her how a woman kissed. Arya suspected that it was exactly what Jon was doing and he was a good teacher.

Arya felt his hands sliding the shirt down her shoulders, living her naked so Arya could feel his hands going down her back, up and down her spine and making her shiver as Jon brought their bodies closer. His tongue in her mouth felt warm and silky, teasing her and exploring her taste as if she was the sweetest summer wine. She grabbed the hair at his nape, afraid that he could break the kiss and leave her alone again. That seemed to please him and Jon started to kiss her with a hint of violence.

Soon enough Arya felt his whole body on top of her as his hands carefully explored every inch of her skin, pressing her against the mattress and sucking the air from her lungs. It felt claustrophobic and thrilling when he pinned her wrists to the mattress and used his knees to separate her legs.

Jon kissed her neck and his beard tickled her but it still felt good. His heavy breath against her skin made her feel uncomfortable at her intimate parts, as if she was wet. Jon seemed to sense it somehow and it made him slid his hand down their bodies just to touch her between her legs, under her undergarments.

He rubbed her there and a breathless moan escaped her mouth. She didn’t know what that had been, but she liked it. She liked the fact that Jon knew that about her body. He knew how to make fire run through her veins.

Her body seemed to be molded by Jon’s until the point they could simply fit into each other. His hands…She could fell the calloused palm on her breast, the fingers pinching her nipples, the roughness of him against the softness of her flesh. While Jon seemed to know everything that had to be known about her body, Arya hadn’t done anything but savor the foreign sensations and get marveled by his sudden lack of control over his actions.

The Jon she knew would never do anything improper to anyone, but war and winter could change a man’s nature and Jon had seen death and kissed her pale face. That alone could make a man forget about himself and let the deepest desires run free.

At some point he guided her hand until she could touch him under his trousers, already unlaced. A rush of thrill and excitement took her all of a sudden as she felt how hard he was. Jon parted the kiss and looked at her straight in the eyes with blunt desire.

He allowed her to touch him as much as she wanted, making sinuous movements and getting marveled by his facial expression of enjoyment. Jon stopped her hand so he could get rid of her undergarments and what have remained of his clothes. They were both naked and desperate for more while looking breathless at each other.

She nearly said that she loved him with every fiber in her, but remained silent to contemplate the profusion of feelings within his eyes. Arya could tell that Jon was afraid of his own actions and feelings. She could see the disgust, the anxiety and the utter need and love in his eyes. He simply didn’t know what to do with all that, but he knew what he wanted and for her it was enough.

“Tell me to stop.” He begged, breathless near her ear. “Tell me or I won’t. I can’t.”

“I don’t want you to.” Her fingers traced his jaw line before she could plant another kiss on his lips. “Don’t leave me.” Her voice came out shaky with fear that he might refuse her at that point.

Jon held her in his arms and kissed her neck as he brought her up from the mattress to sit with her legs spread on top of him. Arya rested her arms around his shoulders as she looked inside his eyes. His left arm pulled her by her waist and slowly guided his hard cock inside wet folds with his free hand.  

The cry of pain came along with the sensation of being invaded by him. His eyes were opened and looking at hers in the darkness while Arya slowly moved. Her voice let sounds of protests and approval escape without her conscientious allowance as she found her ideal rhythm.

Her legs wrapped him, while Arya gently moved her hips as if she was riding him; allowing her body to adjust to him as it was supposed to. There was pain and sweetness in that moment and Jon guided her through that unfamiliar ground with tender kisses and meaningless words whispered in her ears until there was no pain to flaw that act. She moved again and this sensation…This abstract feeling of fulfillment and joy combined, started to build up within her.

Arya kissed him with a hunger that was foreign to her until now. The need she had never experienced before was overwhelming, as if she had been thirsty for him during all her life. Jon answered her with no less enthusiasm and despair. She moaned against his lips, something between an “I love you” and his name. The meaning was the same, anyway.

Jon growled at the sound of her voice, going deeper inside her as she increased the rhythm. The sounds became more savage and uncontrolled. He called her name several times between a kiss and another and the sound of his voice was sweeter than any music.

“I love you!” His voice huskily said against the skin of her neck.

The world fell apart around them, or at least it was what she felt it was happening when all of her body was licked by spasms and fulfillment. Arya felt his seed, thick and warm inside her, dripping from where they bodies were still connected as they reached the climax together.

Jon rested his body against the wall, with his arms around her waist so she wouldn’t leave him so soon. She felt the discomfort between her legs along with the stickiness of the fluids as he softened inside of her, but said nothing about it. She didn’t want him to think that it hadn’t felt good.

His eyes were closed and while she could feel his nose tracing her neck line.

“I love you…”His voice sounded as if those words have cost him his life and perhaps they had.

Arya looked at his face and saw that he was about to cry. His eyes filled with adoration and panic. There was no regret, though. Something inside them had changed, as if they had finally detached their love from the idea of what the word “siblings” implied. She loved him in every possible way, with every fiber in her soul and Jon felt just the same.

She kissed his face and his lips again, while caressing his hair and savoring the sensation of his touch.

“I love you.” That was all that mattered.

For the first time in year she felt at home and Jon made her fell that again and again until the break of dawn.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally it happened! This is it. The moment denial doesn't work anymore and they finally give in. My goal was to make it feel like beathing after trying to hold your breath for too long, because this is it. When he finally says "I love you"...This is the reason he was stabbed to death, this is the reason he changed. The question is...What happens now?  
> I hope you like it and reviews are appreciated.


	17. Jon

He gave the parchment to the fire as soon as he read the message announcing the arrival of Howland Reed to the Wall. It was expected but no less troublesome, given his circumstances. It made his blood run cold with fear and anxiety once more. He wasn’t expecting visitors so soon.

Jon had yet to make a practical decision about his relationship with Arya. It was his fault to ignore the risks they were taking when reason failed him over and over again whenever he was inside her. He had never really been careful about lovemaking. Ygritte had no real issues with the idea of giving birth to any child they could have conceived. It would be only another child among the freefolk, not a bastard to be looked a talked about with reproach, but he was no longer north of the Wall and Arya was a lady, liking it or not.

The problems to overcome his own moral issues about his feelings for her were already more than they should have to deal with. If Arya got with child because of his reckless attitude, that could only bring them more unwanted attention and complications. He would never force the condition of a bastard to any child, let alone one whose mother was Arya.

He wondered about what she would think of being a mother. Not that Arya had ever expressed the wish of having a child of her own, but Jon could remind of several times back in Winterfell when she had being more of a motherly figure to their younger siblings and the children of Ned’s banners than Sansa had ever managed to be. She used to defend Bran and care about Rickon, playing with him for hours and making him calm down when no one else could. That made his heart ache. 

He looked at the bunch of dry herbs and flowers that Val had being so kind to find. She knew the reason for the unusual request and despite of her personal feelings in the matter of his affair with Arya, Val was gracious enough to not speak of it out loud. She would never give up judging him, but at least she wouldn’t try to be an unnecessary obstacle.

He hoped that Arya would take the moon tea without any further questions before Howland could arrive. After that they could become more careful about their private affair. Arya was the heart and reason to a second northern rebellion and he had sworn to make her Lady of Winterfell and Warden of The North. She had to be presented as a strong and virtuous young woman, not a foolish girl tricked by her own half-brother in to a dangerous and sinful affair.

Someone knocked at the door and Jon granted passage. Satin entered his office with fresh snow melting all over his dark hair. His pretty face was already recovered from the dreadful attack.

“Lord Howland Reed is here, my lord. He requires and immediate audience with both you and Lady Stark.” His voice was solemn and respectful. Satin had noticed, perhaps without much effort, that he should never call Arya by her first name even when she gave him permission to.

“Send Jeyne after her and offer Lord Reed’s men wine and bread. I’ll receive him here.” Jon answered calmly.

“As you wish, my lord.” Satin answered with a courtesy. It bothered Jon to no end being called a lord when he was no longer Lord Commander, but it was for the best to be feared by those men and followed by the wildlings than risking treason, especially when Arya could get involved.

It didn’t take much for Arya to come into his office, wrapped in a thick cloak that covered her from neck to toe. It was getting colder by the hour and she was already having trouble dealing with the weather. _Too much time spent in places where the weather was kinder. She must go back to Winterfell as soon as possible._

She looked at him shyly and Jon realized that he had yet to get used to this new kind of intimacy that they shared. That discreet and silent attitude was so unlike her usual confident and radiant way that Jon wondered for a while if he had hurt her somehow. Probably there was too much to be said yet, but no time to actually say it. He wanted to kiss her even now, in plain daylight and for everyone to see it. He wished to know if there would be a day when this need would settle down within him.

She didn’t ask about the audience, probably because she had seen the banners with the crocodile from their room. Arya chose to look at the table instead and admire the bouquet of dry herbs and flowers. Jon wasn’t sure if she knew about those herbs and didn’t want to think about the reasons she could possibly have to know about them.

“They are for you. Val will make you a tea later and after drinking it would be for the best for you to stay in bed.” He said awkwardly. How could one ever talk about these things lightly anyway? The idea of her carrying his child was a delightful and frightening one. He would love to hold a child they had conceived in his arms, but that could not be. Not when their position was so risky and when everything could go so very wrong.

“Is that what I think it is?” She asked with a sober tone that reminded him of the one their father used to favor whenever he had behaved badly. “I won’t have it.” She said with utter conviction, making him sight in despair.

To deny or impose anything to Arya had always been a tricky business, he knew. As a child, anything forbidden or denied to her became her heart’s greatest desire and not even their father could manage to control her. _He was the one who granted her whatever she wanted, along with me. Is that what I am to you, little sister? Am I another thing you were denied and now you set your claim over just for the sake of your fierce desire?_ Jon couldn’t help thinking like that and feel used by her somehow, but that wasn’t the time, or the place to think about his insecurities.

“This is hardly the time for you to be rebellious.” He replied her in a low and decisive way. That would be a long a tiresome debate that he could not afford to engage in while Howland Reed was on his way to that office. “We’ll talk about it later and in private.”

“You may try.” She insisted, looking at him with defiance and determination. He had always looked for that fire burning within her eyes in every woman that had ever crossed his path, but none of them was Arya. He loved the hunt and the challenge. He loved a hopeless cause and a troublemaker.

Jon remained silent until a knock at the door made him turn to face Satin again, followed by a man that could be confused with a child given his stature and slender constitution. If Bran was alive, he would be taller than that man with green hood. The short man took away the cover from his head, revealing a plain and sympathetic face. His eyes were dark green and his brown hair had white string near his temples.

He paid both Jon and Arya a hurried courtesy before taking a proper look at the woman he would pledge his loyalty to. It took him a glimpse of Arya’s face to make him smile and Jon’s blood to boil with anger. He wondered if that old man would ever be so bold to flirt with her in front of him.

“Lord Reed, I presume. Father used to tell many stories about how you saved his life.” Arya said with a smile. Reed nodded negatively. There was a sad smile playing on his lips.

“It was both my duty and pleasure. I had a debt with another Stark at the time. I could not save her, but I did my best to save her brother.” His voice was pleasant and calm, as if that man had bought all the time in the world for the sake of mastering the sound of it. “If I may say so, my lady looks exactly like Lady Lyanna and just as beautifu. That and the fact that you are Ned’s daughter would be more than enough for me to come to your aid.”

“You are very kind, my lord.” She thanked him and all of Reed’s talk was getting Jon nervous by the hour. He wasn’t there to be courteous and gentle to her. He was there to fight and nothing more. “I haven’t realized that you knew my aunt while she was alive.”

“I knew her indeed. She was something. A wild woman in her own right and better with a practice sword than most men I know.” He smiled at her fondly. Jon’s hand closed in a fist.

“I believe we have more important matters to talk about than Lady Lyanna, my lord.” Jon finally found his voice, making Howland Reed look at him directly as if he was the most extraordinary thing in the world. _What an odd man._

“With all due respect, I disagree.” He bowed his head lightly. “To talk about Lyanna Stark is probably the main reason to bring me here. It’s about time for you to know the truth regarding your parentage, Your Majesty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't say that Jon is feeling guilty by what they did. I guess once you make a decision and is prepared to face the consequences of it, it's because guilt if far behind you. You may regret it, but at this point Jon realized that there's no going back. They can either deal with what they have in hands, or they can pretend it didn't happen, but he can't deny that he desires Arya and that's mutual. The major drama now is that Jon is faced with another dilemma. Reality x the dream of a family. Let's not forget that there's a war on the way.  
> I hope you like it and reviews are always appreciated.


	18. Jeyne

She had gone to Lord Snow’s chamber early that morning to help Lady Arya to get dressed for the day. Rumor has it that Howland Reed was about to arrive with a number of cragnomens to reinforce Snow’s growing army. Soon they would march and Lady Stark had to be ready to receive them. _She is the heart of the cause. She will take me home._

Jeyne had grown fond of her new mistress, probably because Arya and she had developed a strong connection after all the dreadful path they had walked. She could sympathize with her in a way that Jeyne wouldn’t have believed a few years ago. Arya had a way to make friends and after getting over her adoration toward Sansa, Jeyne finally let the younger Stark girl to get a chance of winning her loyalty.

She opened the door with a smile. The day was cold and unforgiving like any winter day, but her spirit was high with hope and expectation. The room was still dark and there was no fire to warm it up. Only old grey walls and a bed too small to accommodate the former Lord Commander and his sister.

There were clothes items spread all over the place and there was a quietness that hadn’t been there in the previous days. It was like walking through a graveyard and Jeyne couldn’t help the chill I her spine. _It feels like a haunted place._

Arya was still in bed, embracing her knees and keeping them pressed against her chest. Jeyne lightened a candle to illuminate the dark room.

“Lord Reed is here!” Jeyne said enthusiastically, ignoring the solemn face of Arya Stark. “He wants an audience with my lady. Lord Snow sent me here to help you to get dressed. You have to look splendid, like a proper Lady of Winterfell and a princess of the North…” The words just died at her throat when the candle light allowed her to have a better look at her mistress.

There were dark marks along Arya’s neck and shoulders. Her legs where scratched and her hair was a mess. There were bite marks and bruised too, but that wasn’t the end of it. The once white linen bared the mark of vivid red blood, like a paint of a red rose in canvas.

Her hands started to shake so violently that Jeyne let the candle fall from her hands. Arya looked at her with curiosity while the only thing Jeyne managed to do was to hug her mistress while trying to contain a convulsive sob. She was crying out of fear and anger.

“I’ll kill him, my lady. I’ll kill him for doing it to you.” She said while trying to contain her tears, until she felt Arya’s hand stroking her hair lightly.

“Why would you do that?” Arya asked in a whisper. “It’s Jon. He’s on our side, Jeyne.”

“He shouldn’t…He is as bad as him.” Her voice was weak. The bare remind of Ramsay and what he had done to her was more than Jeyne could take. She was loyal to the Starks, she was loyal to Arya and therefore she could never accept her mistress to suffer like she had.

Jon Snow was nothing but another resentful bastard. He deserved to die for being a monster just like Ramsay was.

“Hush now. I’m fine.” Arya said in a sympathetic tone. “Not every man is like that savage. Jon lost a bit of control over his acts last night, but I quite like it when he is less controlled.”

“Do you like it?” She asked out of shock. “You wanted it?”

For a moment Arya was silent, while Jeyne looked at her with eyes as big as a plate. They were siblings! The fact that they had always been close would never be enough to wash the sin of it.

“He is mine and I am his. It had always been like this, hasn’t it?” Arya finally broke the silence with a voice as serene as the breeze on a summer day. “I wanted him. All of him and all at once. It gives me some sort of security, as if after sharing his bed he could never abandon me again.”

“It’s wrong.” Jeyne lowered her face, trying to hide her tears.

“Targaryens used to wed their sisters.” Arya answered absently.

“But my lady is not a Targaryen. You are a Stark of Winterfell.” Jeyne’s voice was fierce, although she could barely hear her own voice. Arya sighted in answer.

“I would not mind to be a Targaryen, if that meant that I could have him. I would not mind it at all.” She looked away with distant eyes. “You will not mention what you know to anyone. Not even to Jon. Who knows what he could do in order to keep a secret?”

“I won’t tell, my lady. I promise.” Jeyne whispered. “I’ll help you to get dressed and then I’ll get rid of these sheets.”

“It would be for the best to burn them.” Arya replied before getting out of bed.

No more words were said between them about the matter, but Jeyne could not help looking at the marks spread all over her mistress skin while she helped Arya Stark to get dressed. Every purple mark was a cruel remind of the fearful days lived in the hands of Ramsay Bolton. Jeyne had known no kindness and no love from her husband, only savagery. It was hard to believe that her lady could ever enjoy such displays of strength, and even find pleasure in that kind of intimacy.

Maybe it was love indeed. Maybe that was the reason for her to enjoy Jon Snow’s company and bed, even though that was too great a sin to ever be spoken of out loud. It was wrong and Jeyne knew it, but Arya and Jon had always been so close that it wasn’t exactly a surprise. It was more like the natural course of the stream, like the change of seasons. Fall would be followed by winter, which would be followed by spring and then summer. They were Starks despite Jon’s bastard name, and winter was as much a part of them as the wolves howling in the woods. _“For now they are winter as they were always meant to be. They need each other to survive, but I wonder if such love would ever survive spring.”_

Jeyne conducted her lady to Jon’s office where she was supposed to receive Howland Reed and any other potential ally that might have come along with him. She wondered if anyone should ever walk with cheeks so high, and neck so long after committing the worst kind of sin against the gods. Her lady seemed so secure and so brave, walking the path with no uncertainty to flaw her expression. _“She is brave. She is not afraid of fighting for him, nor with him.”_

Jeyne saw her entering the office and from outside she heard the hushed voices and the urgent tone in Jon’s speech. They were discussing for sure, but Jeyne couldn’t say what they were talking about.

It did not take long to Howland Reed to arrive at the office wearing a worn out green hood and a pleasant smile on his solemn face. He paid her a little courtesy and Jeyne was instantly convinced of his good will and loyalty by his impressive green eyes, as she tried to conceal the content of the basket she was carrying.

“Lord Snow and Lady Arya Stark are waiting for you inside, my lord.” She said immediately.

“I hope so. It has been a long journey just to see them. The lady that will raise the North in rebellion, and the man that conquered death. What a story the bards will have.” He said calmly. “It’s about time to show the southerners what happens when winter comes. There will be snow and the sound of wolves howls. There will be fire and blood as well.”

A shiver licked her body while she observed the short man entering the barely illuminated chamber where the former Lord Commander and Lady Stark waited for him. There was a storm coming and Jeyne did not know what to expect of it. She took a deep breath and avoided the Red Priestess room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the time arrives for Jeyne to prove her loyalty, even when she is terribly scared of Melissandre. I liked to give her and Arya a time to talk and to allow Jeyne to show the extension of her suffering and be understood. I hope you like it and reviews are welcome.


	19. Arya

She knew the words but they did not make sense to her and given to Jon’s facial expression he was probably as confused as she was. Howland Reed said what he must and was even able to provide strong evidences of it. Several leters were spread all over the table, all of them with the sigil of both house Stark and Targaryen, some with the sigil of the Royal Guard, signed by Arthur Dayne, The Sword of The Morning.

If that was a lie, Arya had never heard one with so many evidences to confirm it. Jon’s face was pale and he even looked for a chair to have a sit while reading every document before him and digest every word with caution. Reed looked at him patiently. He could understand that it was a lifetime to be forgotten and another identity to be built.

“This cannot be.” Jon finally said absently. He was in shock to say the least. Arya put her hand on his shoulder in attempt of soothing his worries, but all to no avail. Jon covered her hand with his own, ignoring the curious eyes of Howland Reed. He needed something to keep him attached to reason, to what was known and safe. He needed her by his side. “I am Eddard Stark bastard son. I never knew my mother and this is nothing but a bunch of lies! Pieces of parchment that could have been forged for all that I know and you dare to use the name my father to falsify them!”

“Jon, calm down.” Arya said firmly making him look at her with disbelief.

“You cannot possibly believe it, Arya!” He replied immediately, ignoring any discourtesy directed to Reed.

“I’m not saying that I do, but you have to think about it with a cool mind.” Her voice sounded resolute. “Lord Reed was a trustful friend to my father, he saved his life! Everything that he has said so far was proved by several leters. He saw Lyanna dying!”

“Do you realize the meaning of this?” Jon asked exasperated.

“That you are the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms and legitimate heir of Rhaegar Targaryen? Yes, I do. Robb have made you his heir in his will too, ignoring my position in succession. The world seems to believe that you are supposed to be king and if we are to start another rebellion, we better have a good reason to do so.”

He gave her a severe look, one that he rarely gave her. That was a talk he would not have in front of strangers, most of all Howland Reed. _We have far too many secrets now._

“Would you mind terribly to give me and Lady Stark a day to discuss it privately, my lord?” Jon finally asked Reed.

“Not at all, Your Majesty. I understand that it is too much to digest. My men were already provided with accommodations and food. I shall wait for your answer.” Reed answered politely and paid them courtesy. “I take my leave now, Your Majesty. My lady.”

Reed turned his back at them and left the room without further talk. Jon closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting a heavy sight escape his mouth.

She only observed him with cautious eyes. Jon closed his eyes and lifted his hand to his temples as if such a gesture could ease the headache that was surely having the best of him. When he finally looked at her Arya could see all the tension in his jaw line and the anxiety in every single line of his face.

What could she say to him? Although they were much alike, she had grown up knowing who she was and how it was to have a mother, a father and a name. All of this had been denied to Jon since his birth and now…Now it could change everything that they had always believed to be true and Arya didn’t know how to help him in this.

Jon rose from his sit abruptly startling her with his sudden move. Before she could even move or think about anything, his mouth was already claiming hers in a hungry kiss. Although he was a passionate lover, Jon had never been so urgent in his touches and kisses. He didn’t seem to be thinking about his acts at the moment, or even about how they could be couch in the act. He sat her on top of the table and lifted her skirts before separating her legs to accommodate him.

She thought about denying him given his unexpected rampant. She thought about doing many things but hasn’t found the courage to do so. Arya shared his need and urge until Jon buried himself between her moisture folds. Arya hided her face at the curve of his neck to contain the uncontrolled sounds that escaped her mouth while he moved in and out of her.

It was fast and irrational but no less powerful than before. She would be sore for a day or two later, she would even complain about it with him later but at that moment Arya could only feel the waves of pleasure building up within her.

Arya threw her head back and let a long moan escape her mouth she release finally came to her. She barely felt it when his seed filled her with warmth. _Moon tea…_ The words echoed in the back of her mind and tasted bitterly. That was a talk for another time.

Jon’s breath was heavy against the skin of her neck. When he finally looked at her Arya could see the despair and confusion all over his face. He kissed her fiercely again and again, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

When he finally calmed down while hugging her tightly against his chest, Arya caressed his scalp and kissed his face.

“You are a king.” She whispered to him. “You could be a great king.”

“I’m not your brother.” He answered in awe. “I’m not your brother.”

She froze in his arms for a moment. She almost forgot about that and what that could mean to them. Jon was not…

“I don’t want to be king.” He finally confessed against the skin of her neck while Arya felt his beard tickling her. “I’m not a king, nor the Lord of Winterfell. I’m not even human if you are to consider some rumors. I don’t know who I am now and I need you to tell me. I need you to remind me. What am I supposed to do, Arya?” His voice sound desperate.

She pulled him away for second and Jon looked at her just like Weasel used to. Like a lost child seeking for orientation and support. She did not know the answers that he wanted. She was barely a grown woman herself and most would agree that she was still a child, no matter how her life had obligated her to grow up before the proper time.

“We will go to war, that much is clear enough.” She answered him with a stern expression. She could feel the tension in the air, the expectation, the doubt. He wanted her to say something else, something about them, something about how this new reality could influence their dirty affair.

“I’m not suited to be king.” He said resolute. “I have no intention of taking a crown. Being Lord Commander had shown me that I have no talent for ruling.”

“Robb and Rhaegar seam to disagree with that.” She added. “I’m not saying that you should jump to this opportunity, but you should consider it. If anyone else ever discovers the truth about you, we won’t have any option. We can either fight, or wait until someone cut our throats.”

“I said that I’m not suited, but I’ve never said that I wouldn’t consider it.” Jon said while looking intensely at her. “Give me one good reason to fight and claim the throne and I won’t stop. Say the word and I will teach the Seven Kingdoms the meaning behind the Stark’s words.”

“What do you want me to say? That I’ll follow you? That you have my loyalty and any help that I can provide as a Stark? I thought that was plain enough, Jon. Do you want me to bend the knee and swear my loyalty to you?” She asked bluntly.

“I want you to realize that I’m not your brother.” He finally said as if waiting for her to understand a much deeper meaning to those words. “I want you to understand that I have no more reasons to pretend that I’m not in love with you or to care about what will happen if anyone finds out that I’ve taken you as my lover. If you want me to be king, than you better realize that the only way for it to happen is if I have you as my queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...How this revelation will change not only the war plans, but also their relationship? If in one hand we have a relieved Jon, on the other there's a very practical Arya with wheels turning on her head in order to get them both out of this alive. I hope you'll like it and reviews are appreciated.


	20. The She-Bear

She saw the banners from a distance, feeling her leg ache terribly while Greyjoy helped her to stand on her feet. _Reed!_ The thought came to her immediately and Alysanne felt a bit of relief for the first time in months. It would be sweet to see a familiar face again after the white hell they had been through. She could only hope that Lord Snow would welcome her as a survivor.

Asha had been surprisingly helpful since they managed to escape the massacre commanded by Bolton. That monstrous bastard would have a taste of her sword one day or another and she would gladly chop his head off and send it to Roose. _A fair price for all the friends and soldiers I’ve lost._

“Will this boy receive us?” Asha asked suddenly.

“If he is half a Stark, he is sure to have some honor. My uncle trained him and groomed him to command. I can only think that he will at least talk to us. If the rumors are true, he has your brother in an Ice Cell. He will be cold as hell, but still alive.”

“I can’t hope to have a different luck, but I wonder why he would keep Theon alive after what he did to his siblings. I would have killed my brother, if I were this Jon Snow.”

“Then you should be glad that he is not you. That means you may yet survive.” Alysanne growled in pain while they walked across the field crowded by Reed’s banners man.

It was a strange sight, she had to admit. Northerners, southerners, wildlings and black brothers all over the place and looking at both women with disdain and curiosity.

“LORD SNOW!” She roared with all the strength she had left.

A squire came to them running as fast as possible, followed closely by a hooded small man. Alysanne couldn’t help to smile at the sight of the familiar face of Howland Reed. At least she could trust someone now. She could have hope. Reed smiled at her as he used to since she was a child and that was the last image she saw before everything blackened out.

She woke up feeling dizzy, but the smell of food soon got her alert. Asha was sitting on a chair by her side, with legs and hands chained, but she didn’t seem to care about it while devouring broth and bread without even breathing properly. She had no idea of how long she had been unconscious, but she was sure that it had been at least five hours. 

There was someone else in the room. A couple dressed in black garments, looking at her patiently. The woman could hardly be called like that. She was young and small, with dark hair and grey eyes. For a moment she thought her to be Lya, but the wolf in her clothes told another tale. The man by her side had the same colors of the girl. In fact they were so alike that one could say they were twins if it wasn’t for the difference of age. It was only when Alysanne saw the sword that she realized who was that man.

“Lord Snow, I presume.” She said with a feeble voice while trying to sit on her bed. “You look like your lord father.”

“I’m glad to see you getting better, Lady Mormont.” He said with a sour voice as if her statement had been a displeasing one. _Most bastards are resentful of their parents, but I’ve always heard that Ned Stark treated this one like one of his legitimate kids_. “I understand that you managed to escape the attack leaded by Bolton with your prisoner. What else can you tell us about it?”

“That hell would have been more pleasant than that massacre. Stannis is dead along with his man. I saw some northerners escaping to the woods along with men from the mountain clans. What was made of them I can’t tell for sure. I escaped with my life and the prisoner Asha Greyjoy. Castle Black was my only hope, but I never imagined that Reed was gathering his forces here. What in the seven hells is going on?”

“She is perceptive.” The girl finally said, making Jon Snow look at her with a bit of exasperation, as if she was not supposed to say a word. “How loyal were you to the Starks?”

“As loyal as one can be. My sister died at the Red Wedding, my other sister told Stannis to fuck off when he demanded us to bend the knees. Not with so many words, I hope. Mother would expect some education and good manners from Lyanna. I took Deepwood Motte back and finished the krakens. I would gladly chop off Bolton’s head, if given the chance.”

“A chance you might have, my lady.” Lord Snow said calmly. “Here is your liege. Pledge fealty to Lady Arya of House Stark and you might have the chance you crave for.”

She looked at them carefully. Indeed the girl had the Stark’s look all over her, but it was what Snow said that worried her. He was a man of the Night’s Watch and was bound by law to not interfere in the politics of the realm, but there he was. _A traitor._

Alysanne didn’t like the smell of it. Something was wrong, or something of great matter might have happened to explain Reed getting out of his swamp to pay the Wall a visit.

“I would like to have a world with Lady Mormont in private.” The girl said in a sober tone that gave no room for questioning. Reed bowed his head and grabbed Asha by the arm to get her out too. Lord Snow remained by his sister side like a ferocious dog. _A bloody wolf this one._ “You too, Jon.” The girl insisted, making the young man look at her nearly outraged and desperate. He bowed his head lightly before leaving the room.

The girl sat by her side, taking Ashas chair and looking at Alysanne carefully.

“Jon seems to think that I can’t take care of myself. I do appreciate having him near, but I also like having some autonomy.” She said.

“It had always been like this.” Alysanne answered grumpily. “I remember both of you from the last time I went to Winterfell with mother and my sister. You were just a child back then.”

“So you know that I am Arya Stark.” The girl concluded. “That’s good.”

“How did you escape Bolton? Was it your brother who saved you?” Alysanne asked carefully. _No matter how noble the intention, treason is treason._

“No. Bolton never had me in his possession. It was an impostor. A clever plan, Tywin’s doing. We have the impostor here, along with Theon Greyjoy.” The girl answered calmly. “I want the Boltons exposed and I want them to pay for what they have done to us, so I’ll ask you one question, Lady Alysanne. Will Bear Island fight for me?”

Alysanne tried to find a more comfortable position to her leg before giving the girl an answer. The sound of those words was just too sweet.

“I guess you don’t remember me.” Alys said. “Last time I’ve seen you, you meat us at the gates of Winterfell all covered in mud. We thought you to be a stable boy at first and then you wouldn’t stop asking me to show you my weapons.”

“That sounds like something I would do.” Arya Stark nodded briefly.

“You told me I should name my baby Serena, if it was a girl.” Alysanne smiled kindly. “When she was born, I took your advice.” That made the girl smile. “I’ve fought for your brother and I only took Stannis’ side so I could rescue Arya Stark from the Bolton bastard. I am exactly where I am supposed to be, so…Yes, my lady. Bear Island will fight for you. There’s one thing I must ask, though.”

“You may ask it, Lady Mormont.” Arya said politely.

“What is the participation of your brother in this?” Alys asked soberly. “Although I understand that he might want to follow you in this, he is a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, groomed by my own uncle to command. I can’t look at such treason with kindness.”

Arya Stark took a deep breath and looked at her hands before speaking.

“He has been released from his vows and obligations toward the Watch. As soon as you walk out of this room everyone in this castle will tell you about it.” Arya answered soberly. “Jon died at his post. You said that we have always been together since infancy…I guess he wasn’t ready to leave this world without me. You don’t have to believe me, but you’ll understand soon enough that this place has its own secrets. Some kind of magic that has been long forgotten and the only thing we can do is to learn how to deal with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All hail the she-bears of House Mormont! I hope you'll like this chapter and reviews are welcome.


	21. Arya

She had managed to avoid the matter for a while, although Jon would constantly look at her with inquisitive eyes, waiting for an answer. She had never expected him to be so demanding about his conditions to fight for his rights though. Queen wasn’t a title she craved for.

Arya sipped the tea as if she was drinking poison. He was right about that at least. A child at that point would be an unnecessary complication, especially when there were so many factors to be considered. Although she wasn’t particularly inclined to motherhood, the idea of carrying a piece of him inside her body was somehow tempting. _I suppose it make sense. A family of our own to replace those we lost._

When he entered the room, Arya had already finished the tea. Jon looked at the cup and then at her face as if he was killing an infant with his bare hands. Even if he had seen death and it had changed him in a way, he was still guided by a strong morality. She only hoped that Jon would leave it behind once war was declared.

“You don’t look happy.” She finally broke the silence as he got rid of his cloak and tunic before lying in bed half naked.

“Maybe because I’m not.” He said sourly.

“Why is that?” It was a rhetorical question, but Arya believed it would be for the best to get over the topic sooner than later.

“Let’s say that making you drink moon tea has never been a dream of mine.” “Jon near growled. “Especially now. Especially after hearing what Reed had to say.”

“Unless you decide to claim your inheritance, a child at this point would be just too risky. I thought we both had an agreement.” Arya replied in a practical tone.

“I already know that. It doesn’t make it any easier.” He answered grumpily. “Why can’t I have what I want without a crown attached to it?”

“You know why and you don’t need me to say it out loud, stupid.” Arya sighed. “I thought you hated the idea of siring a bastard.”

“It wouldn’t be a bastard now that I know we have a way out of this affair. A legitimate way.” He replied sharply. “The child would grow up knowing his parents.”

“This is a serpent biting its own tail.” Arya growled. “This legitimacy you want implies that you need to revel to the world your true name. Are you ready for this? Because if you are, there’s one major obstacle we should eliminate right here, right now.”

“What are you talking about?” Jon looked at her curiously. He wouldn’t like a single bit what she was about to say.

“Shireen Baratheon.” Her voice came out probably to secure for one who was suggesting murder. “If anyone in here finds out who you really are, it’s either your neck or hers. If I get with child, as long as she breaths we won’t know a day of peace.”

“Do you realize that you have just asked me to kill a child?” Jon’s face was petrified with disgust.

“I haven’t asked you to do anything.” Arya sighed. “As long as you don’t try to stop me, I can do it myself and I even promise you it will be painless.”

“You have done it before, haven’t you?” He asked and this time his voice wasn’t a shocked or scandalized one. He actually sounded as if he was sad. Not sad for the girl she wanted dead, but because it was probably the first time he realized how far Arya had gone to remain alive.

She would rather avoid talking to him about her past, but neither of them had the illusion that they would ever achieve their current situation without getting their hands dirty. It was painful, though. She knew he wasn’t willing to let go of the idea that he had of her. His beloved little sister…Even if nothing of that was true anymore. Somehow, this idea managed to break her heart even when Arya couldn’t tell if there was a heart in her to be broken.

“Yes.” She answered shortly. Jon sighed.

“If that’s the price I’ll have to pay to have you, go ahead. Can you make it look like a death of natural causes?” He asked cautiously. There was a coldness in his voice too. It wasn’t his death to cause the greatest changes in his character…Since their first night Jon was willing to do anything to make sure she would be safe and never too far from his hands.

“I’m not an amateur.” She snorted. “And we don’t need anyone calling us kingslayers. She will die in her sleep. A peaceful death.”

“Very well. Take your time and be careful about it.” He said. “Now, come to bed.”

“I don’t want to sleep now.” Arya said before getting up from her sit.

“I wasn’t thinking about sleep.” He hasn’t missed a single opportunity to bed her since the first night, but she wasn’t in the mood for lovemaking. She had too much on her head already and she was feeling sore. Hopefully, once her blood came Jon wouldn’t feel so inclined to touch her all the time.

“I’m not interested in that either.” Arya declared. “I’ll go for a walk.” She grabbed her cloak and a pair of gloves.

“I’ll go with you.” Jon said whiling sitting on his bed.

“No. I want to be alone for now.” Arya didn’t have to look at his face to be sure that Jon was hurt by her refusal and her sudden necessity of space, but the truth was that she have been alone for too long and sometimes she missed the quietness of the night.

She walked aimlessly for a while, just observing the slumber movements of the castle. It reminded her a bit of home and a bit of Harrenhall. Arya looked up to the tower where Princess Shireen and her mother were kept. She hadn’t seen the girl and probably wouldn’t until her mission was done. In another life they could have been friends, but that was a thought she should avoid. _The girl has grayscale. She should have died a long time ago._ That thought gave her some comfort.

In the same tower, the Red Priestess’ fires were still burning, just like her god’s temple in Braavos. Jon hated the woman but Arya couldn’t ignore the life debt. _There might come a day we will need her help._ But asking for the help of a fanatic was something she would rather not do. The Red Priestess didn’t like her and Arya certainly didn’t like Melissandre. _She gives me chills._

Her aimless walk leaded her to the former Maester’s cell. His poisons and potions still untouched, along with several books and Howland Reed. Lord Reed was sitting by the fire, while flipping the pages of an old book with interest.

“It is incredible the power of paper, isn’t it? Revealing the truth long forgotten.” He said without looking at her. “I wish there had been an easier way to break the news. I’m sorry, my lady.”

“I don’t think that anyone would ever receive such news graciously.” Arya said tired before pulling a chair to sit by Reed’s side. “He had been through a lot lately, and now this. I don’t envy Jon at this moment.”

“That’s true.” Reed nodded while putting the book aside.

“Do you think the North will follow him if he decides to claim the Iron Throne?” Arya asked soberly. “I would pledge him my loyalty to the death, but I can’t ignore that other houses might think differently. He doesn’t have the Stark name, after all.”

“They will follow your lead, even if they don’t like it. The problem is once you are married to someone, things will get foggy.” Reed said kindly. “And Jon will need more than the North if he wants to take the Throne.”

“What my father would do?” Arya asked while feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“Ned wouldn’t want you involved in any of this and he had made of his life a great secret in order to keep Jon safe. Obviously it didn’t work.” Reed answered kindly. “You should probably be asking yourself what your grandfathers would do.”

“Not what they would do, but what they have done.” Arya corrected him. “My mother was a Tully, my cousin rules in the Vale…I have the blood connections and the right name. There was never another option for me, was it?”

“Your father never admitted that one day the boy could find out and decide to claim what is rightfully his. Your father was far too honorable and this is a time for beasts, my lady.” Howland sounded concerned. “The truth is that without Jon your position as Lady Stark is vulnerable in which concerns the military part of it, and without your support he will never have the political alliances he will need. I know the idea might be disgusting to you, but…” Howland didn’t have to say another word. She already knew what he was about to suggest. Disgusting was his choice of words and he was right to a certain degree. _This can’t get any worst. This can’t get anymore reproachable than already is._

“I should marry him to secure both my position and his claim to the Iron Throne.” She answered with a heavy sight. “I’ve been thinking of it.”

“The question is…Do you have the stomach for it, my lady?” Arya had to control herself to not laugh at Reed’s face. _If he only knew how sore I feel between my legs because of my beloved brother._ “To save your father’s life, I’ve stabbed Arthur Dayne on his back. Honor, conscience…At war they must be ignored sometimes.”

“I’m alive, am I not? Do you think I would be here if I hadn’t enough stomach to do what is necessary?” Arya replied sharply. “It’s not an easy decision, but one way or another…I’ll follow Jon to the seven hells if he decides to claim his crown.”

“Your aunt was very much like this about her brothers too, especially Lord Brandon. They simply adored each other.”

“Just like my aunt I’ll start a war because of a Targaryen, but unlike her…I will not be a victim of it.”

“Has His Majesty made up his mind about his claim yet?” Reed asked calmly.

“No, but he will. I’ll make sure of it.” Arya said before getting back to her feet. “I expect you to attend our meeting tomorrow. With Lady Mormont here, I think it’s for the best to deliberate our next steps. Goodnight, Lord Reed.”

“I’ll be there.” Reed answered with a courteous smile. “If I may say so, I’m glad to serve someone who won’t be scared away by difficult decisions. I was afraid that you would be more like a southern lady, with good manners and a gentle heart. You are a true Stark, my lady. You are the Stark that we need to face the winter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nop...Night won't be pretty and at this very moment Shireen is a danger to both Arya and Jon. I quite like her talk with Reed here and how both of them have a very practical way of dealing with things and warfare. I hope you like it and reviews are welcome.


	22. Val

She had no idea of her purpose on a war council made of kneelers. She wasn’t even a general among her people, but there she was. Val looked at them and at the maps with different colorful tokens indicating the position of the enemy troops without understanding much of their strategy.

The man named Reed seemed to have displeased Jon somehow. She wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Arya was the reason behind it. The former crow was jealous of his own shadow and anyone who dared to take any liberties near the girl would soon find out what a terrible rival Jon was.

Arya sat by her side in the council and she didn’t look well. _I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sick and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was already with child._ Val hoped that it wasn’t the second option, though. She liked Arya Stark even if she couldn’t agree with her affair. The girl was also too young and childbirth could be dangerous under those conditions. _My sister was a woman grown when she gave birth. I wouldn’t like to give this one to the fire too._

“Are you feeling well?” Val asked her discreetly. “You look pale.” Arya flashed a squalid smile.

“My belly hurts.” She said. “It’s not the kind of problem I would talk among men.” Val nodded. _The tea is working at least._

“When we are finished here I can help you with it. There’s something else to deal with these…things.” She said while petting the girl’s shoulder. _I shouldn’t feel responsible for her. What am I doing?_

The door was open and another woman arrived, walking with difficulty. She was stout and the amount of furs she wore made her even broader, but she looked ferocious like a bear. Tormund was the only one missing at that point.

“I guess we should start.” Jon declared.

As de debates started it became clear enough that Jon’s goal was to take back Winterfell, when the only thing Val could think of was the danger of letting the Wall unattended. Jon knew of the evil crawling out of the snow with bright blue eyes and cold hands. They were more dangerous than any mortal army.

“What of the Wall?” Val finally asked, making the kneelers look at her as if she was a crazy woman. “You know what lies out there! You know the danger!” Jon looked at her soberly.

“If the Wall falls, Winterfell is the only thing between the whites and the rest of the kingdom. I haven’t forgotten about it, Val. I won’t leave the Wall unattended either.” Jon assured her.

“Should we march to Winterfell?” Reed asked carefully and the She-Bear made a face.

“With all due respect, we would be repeating Stannis mistake. At Winterfell Bolton has the advantage and the supplies to stand a long siege, while the journey is likely to reduce our numbers severely.” The Bear Woman said. “Even with the wildlings, we won’t have the numbers.”

“What other options do we have?” Jon questioned her sharply. “Do nothing? We should bring the other houses to our cause and attack while it’s still possible.”

“There’s another option.” Arya cut him sharply. Val had to admit that the girl would never go unnoticed unless she wanted it. “We can force Bolton to come after us.”

“Castle Black is almost a ruin.” Jon tried to sound more controlled.

“It’s defendable and I agree with Lady Mormont. At Winterfell they have an advantage and we won’t be able to sustain a siege for long, but here we have the advantage. A place to gather our forces and keep us protected from the cold until the fight comes to our door. Which houses we can count on?” Arya asked in a firm tone, although she was still pale.

“Glover, Cerwin and a few mountain clans. Alys and Siggurd are also preparing to join us, now that they have taken Karhold back.” Jon answered. “The houses have been informed of the plot, but so far it’s my word against Bolton’s.”

“How many men?” Val finally asked.

“Right now we have two thousand and a half, basically wildlings. If these houses send their troops in time, we will have something close to five thousand. We need Manderly, but his heir was kept by the Freys and half of his daughters and granddaughters are married to Freys. He won’t risk supporting us openly.” Jon answered soberly.

“Numbers don’t win wars, but you can bet they help a great deal. Bolton would crush us easily if we are to fight in a field of his choice, which is Winterfell right now.” The She-Bear said. “I would rather invite them here and let the winter do the job of reducing his numbers without risking ours.”

“I can help with the reduction part.” Reed declared calmly. “I’ve done this before.” The Mormont woman growled.

“I don’t approve of your methods.” She said sourly. “We are northerners. We don’t stab our enemies on their backs!”

“This is a war, Alys. Honor is a luxury we won’t have forever and I would like to see them scared to death and with their morale devastated. Furtive attacks along the way, sabotage, ambushes and even poison can do the trick. The wildling will do the rest once Bolton arrives here.” Reed replied. “I can make them bleed.”

Val observed as Jon and Arya exchanged looks. They didn’t even need words to communicate and what the short man has said seemed to agree with their roughness. That wouldn’t be a clean deal and nobody seemed to be interested in heroism.

“Do it, Reed.” Jon declared. “Lord Stark knew your value and I certainly know it too. Do what you must.”

“Fine.” Alysanne answered sourly.

“How do we get this man here?” Val asked in a practical tone.

“I thought Jon should send him a letter.” Arya replied with a sly smile on her lips. “Bolton doesn’t have me, or an impostor Arya. Rumor has already been spread about how he lost his bride and Theon Greyjoy. His position in the North is more vulnerable than never and he is surrounded by noble houses whose allegiance is flickering. He needs a Stark to sustain his claim and he needs it fast. Write him, Jon. Tell him that you have me and that you will have our loyalist cutting his throat while he sleeps. He knows that it will happen soon or later and it will make him come after us.”

“It will make him desperate.” Mormont said with a satisfied smile. “He won’t have other options but to come after us.”

“I guess we have an agreement then.” Jon declared. “Lady Mormont, I hope you can get your sisters here in time.”

“I already wrote to Lyanna asking for reinforcement. They shall be here soon enough.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I wanted to work with some specific elements from the books, being the weather a major component of it. I kept thinking about how the weather had lowered Stannis numbers and how this could be used in advantage of Jon's army. Bolton here is desperate. He doesn't have a Stark to sustain his claim and both Arya and Jon are "safe" at Castle Black. Yes, I wanted to have a strong lady strategist among them and Alysane has seen first hand who difficult and costly would be to get an entire army marching south. She seemed to be the right choice along with Reed.  
> I hope you like this chapter and reviews are highly appreciated.


	23. Jon

He should feel disgusted in some way. He should feel something like repulse, but even when he thought about the past there was this gap, this emptiness in his heart where the memories of his innocent childhood once stood.

Maybe it was Reed’s revelation about his true parentage. Although Rhaegar Targaryen was nothing to him but a name on books and a legend, Jon couldn’t ignore that his said father had given him the most valuable gifts of all after his death. He had given Jon a clean conscience and the possibility of taking Arya for himself. He didn’t want the crown or the Iron Throne. He didn’t want any tittles, but if he had to conquer it all in order to have her fully and live without shame, so be it.

Arya was far more practical while dealing with the needed steps, but Jon has never expected her to be so fast about the killing. Satin came to his office earlier that day with his pretty face transfigured in a mask of grief and consternation. Jon didn’t need worst to know what that was all about.

“Princess Shireen and Queen Seliese are dead, my lord.” It has been just a couple of weeks since Arya had brought up the subject. He had no doubt that it had been her doing.

Satin said that the fire in their chamber had came out during the night and the window had been slightly open when they entered the room bringing their food just to find the cold bodies laid on their beds.

There was no other apparent reason for their deaths. With Stannis dead, there wasn’t even a commotion among his former supporters to investigate their deaths more closely. Arya had been absurdly neat and clean about the whole thing. That alone should have disgusted him. He should be terrified about what she had become, but strangely it felt like the opposite.

 _We have lived and experienced death like no one else. This will be my legacy and I couldn’t have a better queen._ That thought was clear in his mind while Melissandre lighted the pyre to give to the queen and the princess a proper funeral.

Arya stood by his side, still a bit pale, but healthy. He put his left arm around her shoulders to bring her under his cloak and keep her warm. They were just two very close and loving siblings, bravely standing before death and all the consequences of a war about to start. _For now_.

Once the funeral was finished, they both went back to their room in silence. Jon closed the door behind them while Arya climbed on their bed to hide under the blankets and fur. He unclasped his cloak and left it over the chair before going to back to her arms and hold her. He should feel guilty and nauseated, but the only thing he felt was love and the despair of loving someone that had always been forbidden to him.

“What did you use?” He asked in a whisper against her hair.

“Poison.” Arya answered as if they were talking about a condiment in their food.

“Will anyone be able to trace it?” Jon asked before kissing her neck.

“Not now that the bodies have been burned.”  She answered while caressing his hair. Gods…He was already hard for her.

“How do you feel?” His voice was husky as he hiked up her skirts searching for the warmth between her legs.

“Better.” Arya said it in a moan. “My blood is gone.” He claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss while rolled over her.

Her hands reached for the knots of his breeches, unlacing them with astonishing ability before Arya could have him hard in her hands. Jon lost his breath at her touch and talented movements. Arya kissed his neck while he tried to position his body between her legs and touch her more intimately.

“Val helped me finding something…” Arya said breathlessly as his fingers sank in her wetness.

“What?” He asked mindlessly. Her hand was getting him mad.

“Some seeds. They won’t let you get me with child.” Arya whispered into his ear. Jon stopped at that.

Those words…Although they have reached an agreement about the risks of her getting with child when they were about to face a war, it didn’t make it any easier for him to digest. Jon looked at her face and caressed her cheek gently. Once they got Winterfell, once she was secure there and he could revel to the world who he really was, then they would be able to leave all the teas and seeds behind and he would get Arya with child.

 _I’m thinking like a maid; dreaming of a castle, a wife and children when I should be thinking of war._ Those thoughts were poisonous and bitter, but it was the truth. Every step he was about to give would be to achieve that long lost dream of a place where he belonged. _I belong with you…Right here, in your arms._ He kissed her lips with tenderness this time and that made Arya agitated.

“Marry me.” He whispered between a kiss and another. He was done asking her the same question over and over again only to get an evasive answer. If he was really meant to be king, he should be able to get the things that he wanted. “Marry me.”

Arya kissed him back with passion, but she seemed to know better than him what those words implied. She would follow him to hell if needed, but Arya was as much afraid of the tittles as he was.

She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. Their noses touching as they did nothing but caress each other’s face. They shared too much blood. _You killed for me._ _I’m going to war for you. I’ve died for you and I came back for you…There can’t be anything more final than that._

“You would like it, wouldn’t you?” She asked softly and it was so unlike her to show this kind of delicacy. “A family, I mean.”

“As long as I have it with you.” He whispered. “I…I want to be a father.” He said bluntly and those words had been a secret wish he had kept among his dreams of heroism and great glories. “I want to touch your belly and feel my child moving inside you. I want a fireplace to keep us warm while our children sit on our laps to hear stories.”

“I’ve always thought you wanted to be a hero.” She smiled at him kindly. “Then I thought you wanted revenge and blood. Then I thought you wanted companion and sex.”

“I want you.” He answered tenderly. “A family is…A family is just my bastard dream, I guess.”

She was silent while her fingers got his hair out of his eyes and caressed his scalp gently. He liked it when she touched him so carefully. It made him feel as if there wasn’t a war or even a world for him to care about. He looked within her eyes and it was there; that adamant resolution of a decision made.

Her hands let go of his hair and once more touched him under his breeches, pulling his hard cook out as she kissed him with passion. Arya took his earlobe in her mouth, licking and biting it lightly. Jon closed his eyes as she provoked him. He grabbed her right leg, pulling it up to rest above his hips, increasing the friction.

“Stop teasing.” He commanded her with a husky voice, making Arya let go of his cook.

One movement and he was already inside of her, feeling her wet and tight around him. He moved slowly, trying to go deeper inside her, making Arya moan and eventually asking him to go gently. He kissed her neck as she had her nails scratching his ass.

“Yes.” She moaned in his ear, making him increase the rhythm and kiss her fervently.

They were getting louder during their lovemaking. One day they wouldn’t be able to provide other with excuses, but at that moment he wanted the whole castle to hear Arya screaming his name out of lust and pleasure.

Arya pressed her lips against his shoulder and bitted him strong enough to make him growl with pain and desire. She was as much a conqueror as he was. She enjoyed displaying her marks on his skin so she could appreciate the trophies later.

He tried to make it last longer, but once he felt Arya’s muscles tightening around him Jon couldn’t resist any longer. He filled her with his seed as the world blacked out around him and there was nothing but the sound of her voice.

Jon rolled to his side of the bed and Arya cuddled him like a child afraid of a nightmare. She played with the fabric of his shirt mindlessly for a while as they recovered their breath.

“We should make a marriage contract.” She said it lightly. “The ceremony must be a public affair, but a marriage contract will guarantee us both rights until we reach Winterfell and the announcement can be made.”

Jon looked at her a bit shocked for a second, as if he hadn’t understood what she was saying.

“Is this your way of telling me that you accepted my proposal?” He asked with a teasing smile.

“Of course it is, stupid.” She smiled back at him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is two very tormented souls killing their way out of impossible situations. I didn't like killing Shireen. I really like the character, but she is a huge obstacle and just too close to be ignored. I hope you like the chapter and reviews are appreciated.


	24. Jeyne

She looked at the blood stain in the sheets carefully. The Red Woman had commanded Jeyne to take those sheets to her as soon as she could, but at that point Jeyne was familiar with all the rumors about that witch. What could she possibly want with that? Was it some sort of spell? Maybe a way to harm Lady Stark or worst!

Jeyne knew what it could mean to cross the Red Woman, but Arya was her lady and her friend. She had done plenty wrong in her life and suffered enough for it to simply give to that woman this kind of advantage. Holly wars and gods of fire were nothing to a girl born and raised in Winterfell, but the Stark name meant the world and maybe her only chance of seeing Ramsay Bolton paying for his crimes.

She grabbed the sheets and hid them under her cloak. Arya had given her orders to burn them and so she would do, but not where Melissandre’s eyes could find her.

“Where are you going, girl?” The guard at the northern gate asked as she passed by.

“It has been a while since I last talked with the gods.” She answered shyly. He was a tall wildling, with long messy hair and a beard that was getting gray. “I just wanted to pray for a while.” She lowered her head shyly, hoping he wouldn’t ruin her plans.

“The Crow told us you weren’t allowed to leave the castle.” The wildling said carefully, almost as if he pitied her.

Jeyne sighted. What could she do? Jon Snow would never allow her to go alone and the idea of him finding out that she knew about his secret was a dreadful one.

“I’ll take the girl to the godswood, Tyr.” Jeyne turned her head to face the wildling woman that served as Arya’s sworn shield. “I’m in need of time with the gods too. If the Crow asks about her whereabouts, you say she is with me.”

The wilding man named Tyr nodded in obedience and opened the gates to give them passage. Jeyne lowered her head and grabbed the sheets under her cloak tighter. How could she burn the damn thing now?

For a while they walked in silence and Jeyne noticed how much the wildling princess had the same bravery about her figure that Arya Stark wore so effortlessly. They were fighters and survivors although they were only women. _I wish I had that kind of strength in me. I wish I were that brave._

“What have you seen inside that room?” The wildling princess finally asked without looking at her directly.

Jeyne felt her blood freeze in her veins out of fear. _Lady Stark said I couldn’t tell! I can’t tell anyone._ She remained silent and the wildling sighted.

“You are a loyal one, aren’t you?” Val looked at her carefully for the first time. “Why protect a secret that isn’t yours?”

“She is my lady.” Jeyne answered raising her head to face Val and trying to look brave enough to fight that wildling to the death if needed. “More than this, she is my friend.”

Val smirked at her, although her eyes were somehow melancholic.

“He is my friend too, I guess.” Val answered calmly. “His secret is also mine, so I guess you and I have something in common now.”

“Do wildlings agree with such…Practices?” Jeyne asked carefully.

“No.” The wildling princess said shortly. “It’s considered an abomination. I guess for you kneelers is different.”

“Not really.” Jeyne replied sadly. “There were kings that used to marry their sisters, but they are all dead. Some say it’s a curse. Why are you keeping his secret then?”

“I don’t know.” Val’s voice sounded heavy. “I’d rather not keep it, but…He was dead. I saw it with my own eyes. I cleaned his body and closed his wounds. I don’t understand it and it still gives me nightmares. Maybe…Maybe I’m not supposed to understand him or the gods at all.”

“They had always been close. Once he threatened me for being mean to her.” Jeyne confessed that long forgotten memory. “I guess…I guess one would never leave the world without the other, no matter what.”

“It’s strange, but…I guess this is a nice way to put it.” Val agreed with her and for the first time Jeyne didn’t find the wildling so terrifying.

Once they reached the godswood, Val laid down her spear and weapons on the ground before kneeling with her eyes closed. Jeyne remained at a safe distance, looking around for branches and wood for a small fired.

“What are you doing, girl?” Val finally asked once Jeyne’s noise became too much.

“There’s something I have to do.” Jeyne answered while trying to light the fire with two rocks without much success.

Val growled lowly before getting back to her feet and walking toward Jeyne. For a moment Jeyne considered that the wildling would strike her for being noisy and interrupting her moment with the gods. Instead of it, Val picked the rocks and lit the fire almost effortlessly.

“Thank you.” Jeyne whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Val answered while observing Jeyne to take the sheets and throw them into the fire. “What are you doing?”

“Lady Stark asked me to burn this.” She answered calmly. “The Red Woman…She commanded me to do something weird.”

“I don’t like that woman. Whatever it is she commanded you to do, you shouldn’t.” Val said immediately.

“So I thought. She wanted these sheets for some reason. I don’t know why, but it didn’t feel right to give them to her. She will never find them now.” Jeyne said proudly.

“This is evil.” Val’s voice sounded dark and deep. “That woman has a plan and I’ve seen what she is capable of. You did well, Jeyne.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeyne is a loyal creature and I quite like seen her being friends with Val XD  
> I hope you like it and reviews are appreciated.


	25. Chapter 25

**Melissandre**

Melissandre looked at them standing from the other side of the fire while she performed the funeral rites for Princess Shireen and Queen Selise. _The poor child would have been a good sacrifice too. What a waste of royal blood this is_. _If only I had Lady Stark’s blood now._

Jon Snow covered his sister’s shoulders with his cloak and held her closely. _It even looks like a westerosi marriage._ He kissed her forehead as they stood, both proud and fierce in their looks as twin vengeful souls. Arya Stark looked straightly at her like a she-wolf facing a potential threat to her pack.

Jeyne Poole stood by Lady Stark’s side, along with the She-Bear and the wildling woman. At this point the men in Castle black were already calling that the new “Queen’s Guard”. Melissandre clenched her teeth at the sight of the treacherous girl. Jeyne had turned her back at the Red Priestess as soon as Arya Stark offered her a place at her vengeance against Bolton. It was likely that the lady would even offer her servant a piece of the bastard’s heart to eat once he was killed.

Bolton would die. That much she has seen all too clearly in her fires. A flayed man devoured by wolves, bears and giant lizards and a hundred of women’s faces painted in his blood with eyes burning with the delight of revenge. A blood bath would happen soon enough and beast would take the North. Is Jon Snow would take up his arms against the real enemy, that was a matter still obscured by his lust for his sister.

_That bloody girl! I should burn her even if he would never let me live after doing it._

Once the ceremony was over and everybody returned to their duties, Melissandre tightened her cloak around her body. _My magic is flicking._ She walked across the castle looking for Jeyne Poole who was carrying a platter with food. The girl was obviously afraid by the sight of the Priestess.

“I gave you an order.” Melissandre said sharply. “Why haven’t you obeyed me?”

Jeyne gave a step back trying to keep a safe distance from the Priestess.

“My family served the Starks for centuries faithfully. I have done them wrong and I have paid for it. I won’t betray my lady. Not for you, not for anyone!” Jeyne answered as if she had finally found her courage.

“Don’t be foolish, girl. I serve the Lord of Light and if you want to survive the world’s end you should do as I say instead of obeying your precious lady.” Melissandre said angrily. “Arya Stark can’t save you when the Great Other come for you. Nobody can.”

“Should I cast you out now that your queen and princess are dead, Lady Melissandre?” A harsh familiar voice sounded at her back. Melissandre closed her eyes immediately in frustration. “Perhaps I you stop frightening everyone around here I could look at your cause with kindness, but so far you insist in terrifying people, especially young girls who had done nothing to you. The reason of it, I still don’t know.”

She turned to face Jon Snow directly. His face was sour as usual and he looked tired. _He will never have me in his favor, no matter what._ The thought was a persistent one and Melissandre was fully aware that the only way of falling in Jon Snow’s good graces would be by proving herself worthy of keeping.

“Follow me, priestess.” He commanded.

Melissandre lowered her head and followed him to his study quietly. He usually avoided the very sight of her and that command was highly unlike him. For a moment she feared for her safety and her own permanence in Castle Black. _Only the Lord could tell what devious things your little sister whispers in your ears against me._

He opened the door to let her in and Melissandre obeyed his silent command with her head down. Jon Snow locked the door and took his usual sit by the fire without looking at her a second time.

“I never trusted magic.” He said soberly while facing the fire. “The wildlings say that a prophecy is a sword without the scabbard. There’s no safe way of holding it.”

“I can’t say they are wrong.” Melissandre admitted. “Prophecies can be a dangerous thing, but they are no less true.”

“I suppose so. You were right about Arya after all.” He sounded tired. “And you brought me back from the dead and this should be proof enough of your power. I don’t trust you as I don’t trust your god, but I would be a fool if I didn’t recognize your worth at this point.”

“You called me here to thank me?” She asked out of surprise.

“Not really.” He said. “There’s a war coming our way. Bolton, the Others, and maybe enemies that I don’t even know the name. I have responsibilities with Arya, Winterfell, the wildlings, the Wall and the world of the living. I don’t consider myself a superstitious man, but given all the latest events I guess I’m curious.”

“About what?” Melissandre asked calmly, but no less surprised by his sudden speech. _This is the opportunity of a life. This is likely to be the only chance I’ll ever have!_

“I want you to tell me what you see in your fires.” Jon Snow said calmly. “I want to know what to expect of my enemies and I want to know if Arya will be fine.”

Melissandre looked at the fireplace for a second and prayed for a vision, a sight, anything that could give Jon Snow the answers he wanted.

“I’ve seen it before…The beast rising amidst a blizzard. Giant lizards, bears and wolves alike. All of them dilacerating a man and blood painting the snow around them.” Her voice said gently, but not giving in everything she had seen in her visions. “A time for beasts, my lord.”

“I’ll take it as a good omen than.” He sighted. “Anything else?”

Melissandre got closer to the fireplace, looking at it carefully and hoping for something else. Something able to make him trust her again, but…

“I see blood and fire…” She said. “No more than death and destruction. An empty hall and a throne covered in snow and ashes.”

“Do you see Arya? Tell me if you see her.” His voice sounded urgent.

“I see you and a small shadow by your side. Always by your side.” Melissandre whispered.

“What you think of these visions, priestess? What do you think of my future?” He asked absently, almost as if he didn’t care a single bit about what she said.

“I think you are about to do great things. The Lord brought you back for a reason.” Melissandre said, making Jon look at her. There was danger in those visions as well. The weight of greatness, madness and power dancing too close around each other as the flames consumed the dead creatures.

“For years I wanted to be a hero. Now I just want to live an ordinary life, but fate is a funny thing. It won’t let me live the life I want without becoming a hero first.” Jon sighted. “I don’t want you scaring Jeyne or anyone else around here. Soon I’ll ask you to do something for me and I want you to obey. Consider this your chance of getting my favor.”

“And you think that I want such a thing?” She asked carefully.

“You do because you think of me as some sort of divine tool or even a hero, and I will fight your god’s war once Winterfell is taken back and Arya safely placed there. Your god needs me and that’s why you so desperately try to get to me.”

“And what is it that you need of me?” Melissandre asked.

“For now just the certainty that I can trust you to be silent about what we talked here and that you won’t get anywhere near Arya. The rest of it you’ll know when I see fit.”

“You can’t protect her from the world forever.” Melissandre let it escape her mouth. She knew that she was walking on thin ice, but Jon Snow just looked at her with dangerous interest. “She is far too wild and even if you are a divine hero…You might still have need of me to protect her from the things you can’t control.”

“That she is, but as long as I stand Arya is mine to care and keep. It’s my business to keep her safe and sit her on the Winter Throne.” Jon replied sharply.

“Oh yes…She is yours and I have no doubt of it.” The Red Priestess said dutifully. “The two of you are bound by loyalty and blood, be it the one running through your veins, the one you’ll spill in the battlefield, or the one in the sheets after you took her maidenhead.”

“Careful, woman.” His voice came out harsh and dangerous like a blizzard. “I might yet change my mind about sparing your life.”

“For telling the truth?” Melissandre dared. “I have lived too long and seen too much. I’m tired of games, Lord Snow. You love the girl with a black heart and you might as well die for her if needed be. You love her not like a brother loves his sister, but like a man that is tormented by the weight of forbidden love and lust to the point of embracing the ambition of conquering the world just to have her. The world you shall conquer, my lord. She is your small shadow, your source of power and motivation. You want to know about my visions. You want me to tell what the future has in store for your beloved and you…I see a world ruled by beasts and I see two women in blood beds. One of them bleeding to death trying to give birth to wasted dreams and the other populating the world with all sorts of wild creatures…Two women will carry your children. Only one of them will live to see them becoming the mightiest creatures of the world.”

“Don’t lie to me, priestess.” Jon answered in anger and panic.

“I’m not lying.” Melissandre knew at that very moment that Jon Snow would never cast her out, not after that vision. “A woman will die giving birth to a dead thing and another will give you sons that will mark your name in history with fire and blood.”

“You better start using your magic to make sure that this dead woman isn’t Arya, or I shall send you to the other side so you can try to find your fire god.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...Now things will get interesting. XD  
> Melissandre has manipulated other powerful men in her lifetime, but even so this vision is an extreme one. That will certainly have an impact on her dynamics with Jon and also in how he acts around Arya.  
> Is Jon so much like Rhaegar that he will be a victim of another prophecy?


	26. The She-Bear

It has been a feel days since Reed left Castle Black to place his men in strategic places all the way from to Wall to Winterfell. The ravens have flown, exposing Bolton and demanding the fealty of the North to back its rightful lady. Well…Alysane knew it wouldn’t be easy to convince them to come to their aid, or even of the veracity of their story, but what options they had?

There was no lost love between the northerners and Bolton and after the Red Wedding many would give an eye for the chance of killing Roose and his bastard in their beds if they had the chance, but wars cost money and with winter upon them many would be reluctant to offer supplies and gold to finance their endeavor. Another reason to keep Castle Black as their base. At least they would have shelter and food for a while.

The raven arrived form Bear Island with words from her sister about the man she was sending, along with her mother’s reinforcements that were waiting to get Bolton from behind once he approached the Wall. _House Mormont won’t break faith with House Stark today._ There was also news about her children.

Alys took a sit to read the brief words with care. _They are well and safe. I just wish that I didn’t miss them so much._ That was the tragedy of her life; being a warrior, a daughter, a sister, a mother and an heiress to Bear Island after Dacey’s death. Most of the time Alysane thought herself to be inapt to all of those tasks, but the gods didn’t ask her about her qualifications. They simply demanded her and there was no way of performing so many roles without putting everything she loved at risk.

It was like that that Lady Arya found her, with her eyes wet with contained tears of longing and loneliness. Alysane tried to wipe away the tears and make herself more presentable, without much success.

“What is it?” She asked Alys while taking a sit by her side. “Anything wrong?”

“No!” She answered immediately. “Lya says that the troops shall be here in a matter of days. Not many men I fear, but my mother shall bring hers soon enough to join us.”

“Why are you crying then?” The Stark girl asked.

“If you are lucky, one day the gods will give you children…”Alys said heavily. “It’s both a blessing and a curse, to say the truth. Before Serena was born I was able to ignore pretty much anything around me during battle. Now it seems that I only fight so I can get back to them earlier.”

“I think mother would be like this too, although I don’t think she missed me terribly.” Arya answered sadly.

“Why is that?” Alys looked at her carefully. “Any mother would fight the world to get back to her child, no matter what.”

“I was never the kind of daughter she wanted me to be. I’m afraid that I have been a terrible disappointment to her.” The girl answered sadly. “Once I thought she wouldn’t ransom me when she saw me dressed like a boy, all dirty and with a messy hair. I wasn’t a good lady so I thought myself unworthy of being saved.”

Alys scorned at that. What an absurd thing to think.

“She would do anything for you. I know I would do anything for my children.” Alys said in a warm way. “I was never really feminine, you see…Raised as a warrior not a lady. My daughter is more refined than I would ever be and most of the time I don’t understand her taste in songs and stories. Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean that I love her less.”

“How many children do you have?” Arya asked gently.

“Two. Serena and baby Jeor.” Alys smiled briefly. “He has been calling my sister ‘mom’ since I was gone. I’m afraid he won’t remember me once I get home.”

“He will get reacquainted with a mother there’s also a war hero. He will be proud of you.” Lady Stark said while petting her back.

“I hope so. If not…If I fall in battle…” Alys took a deep breath. “I would like to ask you something.”

“Anything you want.” Lady Stark said with a gentle smile.

“Jeor is the first boy born in this family in a while. Law dictates that he should inherit if I perish in battle, but I don’t see how this could be fair to my daughter, who is being prepared for the task. I want Serena to be my heir. She is intelligent and capable. Well versed in both northern and southern education, while my boy is just a toddler and I have no way to predict the sort of man he will be.”

“You want me to back your daughter’s claim.” Arya concluded soberly.

“You are Lady Stark of Winterfell. Your word is law in the North, or will be pretty soon. I don’t want you to support her claim, I want you to change a law that we, as women, know to be unfair.” Alys sighted. “Dacey was capable in a way that my cousin Jorah never was. My mother raised a bunch of she-bears and all of us more suited to rule than my half witted cousin. There’s no reason for a man to come first in succession when women are just as capable. As a mother, I have no explanations to give my daughter why his baby brother is more important than her and therefore should have the title and the land, while she should count herself lucky if she gets to marry a good man.”

“I see.” Lady Arya nod quietly. “The lords won’t like it a single bit, but my heart can’t deny that you have reason. We should be important to.”

“I can’t protect Serena from the world forever, but if I get one chance to make the world a better place for her, would you blame me for trying?” Alys smiled at her lady lightly. “It will be a glorious day once our queen sits on the Winter Throne.”

“I can only hope to live up to your expectations.” Arya sighted. “We have to win this war first and it won’t be long until Bolton reaches our gates.”

“We will fight him and I’ll be glad to flay that bastard myself.” Alysanne grinned. “This is a time for beasts, my lady. There’s nothing more ferocious than a she-bear fighting for her cobs.”

“Maybe a she-wolf fighting for her den.” Arya suggested. “I supposed I should go now. There’s one more thing I needed to tell you. Jon is gathering the war council in an hour. The chiefs among the wildlings will be there and I trust you can put aside any quarrels you might have with them for the sake of this alliance. We can’t hope to win without their numbers.”

 _Wildlings…_ The sound of the word sent a shiver through her spine. _It has been three years since..He might as well be dead. There’s no reason for fear._

“As long as we have a common cause to put you on the throne and cut Bolton to pieces, I can fight side by side with the wildlings.” Alysane nodded. “I even like the wilding princess anyway. She reminds of my sisters.”

“If we survive this, would you agree with your daughter being fostered at Winterfell? I guess I could use a squire, or at least some female company.” Lady Stark said with a cautious smile. That was far better than Alysane had expected. “House Mormont is very dear to me and Jon. This is a friendship that we will treasure.”

At the mention of Lord Snow’s name Alysane shivered. She couldn’t help it. Lady Mormont had no quarrel with a man based on his rank or birth, but something about Snow made her uneasy and anxious. Lady Arya trusted him blindly, but seemed to be oblivious to the sort of danger his very existence imposed to her claim. The North wasn’t Dorne. A woman in charge would always be seen with suspicion and dislike. Even if Lady Arya proved to be the best ruler to ever sit the Winter Throne, Jon Snow would always be threat to her claim.

He seemed very much loyal to her, but a man’s heart could change just as easily. Besides…What could death make to a man’s loyalty and heart? What could be expected of someone who had nothing left to lose?

No…Alysane didn’t like the bastard a single bit. There was something dark and foul about his soul and the way he looked at his sister. _Eyes of a wolf. He looks at her with hunger and greed. He may allow her to be crowned, but he will never let her rule without a fight._

“I’ most honored.” Alys forced herself to smile.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy. Reviews are appreciated.


	27. Jon

Before Reed went south to bleed Bolton’s army all the way to the Wall with his dirty fighting, Jon had made sure the marriage contract would be signed between him and Arya, with Howland as his witness.

The three of them stood in front of the heart tree as the documents were signed. Several copies of it were made in order to secure the validity of the act. When the time was right and if they survived the war against Bolton, birds would be sent all over the North with the announcement of the imminent wedding of Lady Arya of House Stark and Prince Jon of…House Targaryen.

His heart was reluctant to accept the truth of his parentage and even more so to accept that the life he wanted couldn’t exist without him accepting his inheritance and name. Arya seemed to be far more at ease with the news, perhaps because thinking of him as a cousin made it easier for both of them to deal with the nasty feeling of guilt that grew inside them after sex.

It was sick, twisted, disgusting even, but as he looked at her face to admire her absent smile and the coldness of her eyes, her bruised soul spoke to his in understanding loyalty. Sometimes he struggled to not lock her up and hide her from the world to keep her safe. Arya would fight him to death if he did so, but Jon couldn’t help the fear inside him. The paralyzing fear of possibly losing her to death or to someone else.

It was love what they had…But for him it was also possession.

It was this fear that brought him to Melissandre and made him ask the Red Priestess about the future. Val’s words kept coming back to his mind like a curse… _A prophecy is a sword without its scabbard. There’s no safe way of holding it._ He should have listened to her.

He looked at the bouquet of dried herbs Arya would boil every now and then to prevent her of conceiving his child. _“Two women will carry your children. Only one of them will live to see them becoming the mightiest creatures of the world.”_ The weight of those words were breaking him a bit every day.

Reed wouldn’t stop talking about how much Arya looked like Lyanna Stark, who have died in childbirth when Jon was born. He couldn’t help feeling that perhaps it was his fault. Rhaegar had dreamed of siring the Prince That Was Promised. He had dreamed of a dragon with three heads, like the Aegon Targaryen and his two wife-sisters. All of Rhaegar’s children were dead, but Jon. The woman he chose to give birth to the third head also dead in a bloody bed. If Arya died like his mother had, to give birth to his child, Jon would never forgive himself for it.

_How can I be a king, if demanding an heir from my queen could kill her? No child will ever be conceived in our bed. Not until I’m sure that Arya will be safe._

He was resolute about that even when the very continuity of Houses Stark and Targaryen depended on it. Both of them could die still. He would never be so stupid to trust Melissandre’s words blindly, but a prophecy was like a ghost haunting the future.

A bird had arrived, probably from one of Reed’s men, informing the position of Bolton’s army. It would be only a couple of days until they the army reached Castle Black.

It would be an open field battle and the lack of walls on the southern side of the castle would take away his sleep every night. He had summoned the chieftains among the wildlings along with the few supporters they managed to bring to their cause. Tormund was the first to answer to his call, bringing along with him the remains of Mance’s army. A number not as great as the original force, but still enough to make Bolton think twice.

“According with Reed’s information, this is what we can expect. We must explore both the advantage of the castle and the knowledge of the land. We must be cautious and surround his army. Reed is bringing his men and what remained of the Mormont’s army to attack him from behind.” Jon explained carefully to Tormund. He needed the wildling to understand the plan before he could explain it to the other chieftains.

“Mormont? You mean…The Old Bear’s family?” Tormund questioned nervously.

“Yes. His sister and nieces, as far as I can tell.” Jon answered calmly. “Lady Alyssane is helping us to train and prepare the troops in the castle. I’m surprised you haven’t seen her yet.”

“The She-Bear?” Tormund inquired. “That’s not a good idea.” Hid mighty voice declared solemnly.

“Are you afraid of the lady by any chance? I never heard of a woman capable of frightening you.” Jon provoked without much humor but Tormund seemed really distressed.

“We have been raiding Bear Island for centuries. There’s no lost love between that bunch of women and the free folk.” Tormund insisted.

“Just like White Harbor and every northern village by sea.” Jon pointed still confused by his friend’s sudden insecurity. “We have common cause with the Mormonts and the rest of the Northern Lords. I don’t know what is going on, but I need you to put the past behind and focus in the battles.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew how she is.” Tormund muttered angrily.

“Excuse me? Do you know her already?” Jon asked curiously. “I thought you haven’t had the chance since you were busy dealing with the chieftains.”

Tormund sighed and seemed strangely quiet for someone so loud and boisterous like he was.

“If I tell you, you must keep your mouth shut about it and make sure to keep her in the safest place during the battle.” Now that was an unusual request. Tormund hadn’t asked for favors, unless the safety of his people was at risk. Jon looked at him curiously, waiting for him to say something else, instead of fussing his beard.

“Well... I’m not sure if I can keep her safe, but I can pick her to take care of Arya’s safety in the rear.” Jon said. “Does it sound reasonable enough to you?”

“Aye…That will do.” Tormund declared.

“Will you tell me what in the seven hells is going on between you and one of my captains?” Jon asked sourly.

“She is the one with two kids, isn’t she?” Tormund asked. “A young girl and a baby.”

“She mentioned her kids, yes.” Jon said calmly.

“Well…” Tormund took a deep breath. “She is the reason why they call me Husband to Bears. The children are mine.”

For a brief second Jon looked at him without knowing what to say or think of such revelation. To a certain extent it wasn’t even surprising to hear something like that, since Tormund was well known for his number of lovers. Lady Mormont was a surprise, though. He doubted that she would ever submit to a wildling willingly.

“Have you forced her?” Jon questioned. If that was the case things could become dangerous among the soldiers during battle. That was a crime no Lord would ever forgive and they were likely to ask for Tormund’s head for it.

Tormund looked at him shocked.

“I never had to take a woman by force. If they don’t enjoy where’s the fun of it, eh?” Tormund question, obviously insulted. “I meet her in one of my raids. She got lost in the woods and was hurt when I found her. Took care of her for a few days. I didn’t want the whole Island looking for me to flay me alive. Eventually we got along.”

“And that happened twice?” Jon wasn’t convinced about his statements.

“The first time was for the curiosity. The second was for the sake of the old times.” Tormund smirked. “She made me swear I wouldn’t get near the children. She doesn’t want anyone to know that I’m their father.”

“I must agree with Lady Mormont in this. That could damage her reputation and become a cause of insubordination among her soldiers. You stay quiet about your past with her and keep your prick inside your trousers.”

“Now you are asking too much, crow.” Tormund said. “She has a talent to take of my cloths.”

“I couldn’t care less about Lady Mormont’s talents in the bedchamber, but I do care for her position as one of my captains. I’m not risking it because you can’t keep your cock out of her for long.”

“Now you should listen to your own advises for a change.” Tormund answered back, making Jon look at him curiously. “I’ve heard the rumors about you and the girl you call sister. I’m not stupid, boy. I know your history and how the dragon kings used to marry their sisters, but I don’t recall Mance telling me this was a Stark tradition as well. The wildlings won’t like you for this and I’m sure your lords wouldn’t either.”

“Now we both can reach an agreement.” Jon answered coldly. “This is none of your business, but I guess we are both at the same page here. I’ll keep your Lady Bear safe as much as I can and care for your children to be protected once we have taken Winterfell. I’ll do all of this as long as you never mention my relationship with Arya ever again.”

“You love her.” Tormund declared without doubts. “Not like you loved Ygritte. You never cared about the girl enough to change your black heart, but for this girl you are willing to light the greatest fire the North has ever seen.” He said sharply. “I have no business with whom you take to bed, but don’t presume that you have this power over me. I’m your ally, not your servant.”

“Fine, as long as you are discreet about it.” Jon replied coldly. “I have one condition, though. If I fall in battle, I want you to take Arya with you to a safe place. I don’t care where; just make arrangements for her to be taken care of as far as possible from this place.”

“Now we have an agreement.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! I have a thing for Tormund and Alysane XD. I'm using show Tormund as a reference and not the book version, because of his age. I hope you like it. Reviews are highly appreciated.


	28. Val

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it took me too long, but here it is. I hope you'll like it.

She observed as the Stark girl prepared for battle. There was a coldness in her and a smell of death that Val found to be terrifying. That girl smelled just like Jon Snow since he came back from the world of the dead, but even when she was clearly tainted by this darkness Arya Stark still had a spark of loving kindness in her.

The Crow had an iron armor prepared for the girl. Something made to suit her small figure and keep her safe. The She-Bear had trained the girl in heavy weaponry to the best of her capacity, but they knew it wasn’t enough.

From the Lord Commander’s chambers they observed the defenses being prepared for an imminent attack. Jon Snow walked from one place to another, giving orders, demanding perfection and attention from everyone. It didn’t require a genius to know that the She-Bear didn’t like him a single bit, but Val wasn’t sure about her reasons to distrust the man.

During those days something seemed terribly off about Tormund as well. The man was acting like crazy whenever the She-Bear got near. Val had seen him trying to get to a woman’s heart, but that was getting a bit ridiculous.

“What’s wrong with them?” Arya Stark asked as she observed Tormund insisting on helping the woman. “Is it normal for your men to be so...Colorful?”

“It’s just Tormund, I guess.” Val replied. “He can be very weird when he finds a woman he likes, especially when he can’t simply take her.”

“Oh!” The girl seemed surprised somehow, as if she wasn’t used to the awkwardness that sort of interest could entice. “That’s problematic. It can cause a commotion among her men.”

“So I think, but it has to be her the one to shut him off.” Val pointed sharply. “The same goes to you.”

The Stark girl gave her a cold and dangerous look even though it was plain enough that she had been taken by surprise. Val couldn’t say that she understood the sort of relationship the girl shared with her brother, but it was a tricky thing. Southerners were disgusting in their traditions, but it wasn’t Val’s place to question them.

“Don’t look at me like this, girl. Anyone with eyes can see that what you have for the Crow isn't brotherly affection.” Val said as a matter of fact. “He is your man. You are his woman. I get it and I don’t give a damn, but if you are trying to be discreet...Let me tell you that you are failing. If he keeps mounting you as often as he does, it won’t take long until your tummy is round with his child.”

“That’s none of your business.” The girl snapped back at her with the same arrogance her brother usually displayed. Val ignored her southern temper in order to get things right. She liked that girl like a little sister and maybe the way Arya reminded her of Dalla was the reason behind all of her worries.

“Except it is. We are on the same side and I don’t think anyone has ever told you how these things work. I saw my sister die after giving birth to her baby. We are about to go to war and a child at this point could get you killed while all this alliances between our people and yours rests upon your shoulders.” Val said calmly. “I know you are taking the tea and the seeds. That’s a good start, but maybe you should keep him out of your bed for a while. People are talking.”

“What are they talking about?” Arya asked her in evident anger.

“Among the wildlings they say he has stolen you.” Val pointed. “There are plenty of men that find you attractive, but the Crow would give anyone who dared to get near you to his wolf. For us this is something pretty bad. Something that can make your life difficult.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Arya asked sharply. “Why now?”

“I care about you. Like a sister cares for another and I don’t want to get hurt.” Val pointed calmly. “Also...You are barely a woman. Sometimes I think you are still a child in many ways and you don’t fully understand the danger of this arrangement.”

“You mean that I don’t understand sex. I know what happens between a man and a woman in the bed chamber. I know that I can get with child. I know this is risky and something to be avoided right now.” There were tears in her eyes as she said those words. “Jon is everything I have left! He is my home and I can’t abandon him!”

“I’m not telling you to do so.” Val pointed. “What I’m saying is...If you need someone to talk to...Someone to give you a piece of advice in this matters, I’m here. I’ll help you.” How did she come to that point was beyond her, but Val couldn’t help worrying about that girl and the terrible game she was playing. Even if Arya was far from being harmless and innocent. Even if that girl smelled of death...Val couldn’t look at that mess and think it to be normal or even fair with someone so young. “Just be careful. The two of you must be discreet.”

“I can’t really deny him at this point.” The girl sighed. “There is too much about it you don’t understand. Not only love, sex, or our longing for home...We can’t control it anymore. Too many lives depend on us to succeed and there’s nothing I can do to stop this wheel.”

“If you say so…” Val smiled at her sadly. “Just be carefull and when the battle start don’t try to be a bloody hero.”

“That is something I can’t promise.” She said with a hint of mischief. “Jon wants to win this damn thing in the battlefield, but this may yet cost us thousands of men.”

“I assume you have other plans.” Val concluded.

“Indeed I have.” She said calmly. “Jon doesn’t know half the things I’ve learned in Braavos and I would rather keep him ignorant for a while. I’m willing to do something in order to make this battle quick and successful.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“It’s not honorable.” The girl declared coldly. “He will hate every single bit of it and might even name me a traitor for hiding such a thing, but poisoning their supplies does sound like a fast a pragmatic decision.”

“Will it preserve our numbers?” Val asked immediately. “Will it give us a chance to get as far as possible from this place?”

“I think so.” Arya replied. “Bolton is the one thing standing between us as Winterfell. Once we get there, we will be able to prepare the North for what is to come. I want to go home and I’m not willing to lose a single man under my command.”

“What is stopping you right now?” There was fear in her voice, but it wasn’t directed to the task ahead of her. It was something else.

“You.” Arya answered mindlessly. “You are here, acting as Jon’s eyes and surrounding me with care and protection. Jon told you to do so and you feel bound to do it because he did something for you before. You won’t betray him.”

That much was true, even if it hurt her pride to admit that since the Crow saved her sister’s baby Val felt compelled to repay him. She was a woman from the free folk and since that day she had been little but an obedient sheep.

The Stark girl wasn’t exactly wrong in accusing her of being Jon’s eyes and ears around her. The Crow would often ask her about the girls actions and whereabouts and deny him information was a dangerous game.

Jon Snow was more of a wolf or a devil than anything else since he came back to life. No devil has ever been kind to those who dared to stand between him and his bride.

“If you are going to ask me something, do it.” Val said sharply.

“Would you help me get out of Castle Black?” Arya asked bluntly. “I know what I’m asking and I know the risks for you if you agree. I will understand if you refuse.”

“He will kill me if he finds out.” Val pointed. “Unless you come back before he notice.”

“Would you be willing to take the risk?” Arya looked at her with the mighty of a blizzard and yet so sure about her decision that Val found it difficult to not admire the girl.

“Cowardice is not in me.” Val declared. “I can turn a blind eye as you escape and I can even keep him distracted for a while, but you’ll have to be fast. How long it will take?”

“A couple of days until I reach Bolton’s camp.” She said. “Do you think it can be done?”

“Aye. It can. He won’t be happy and the men need you here for morale.” Val insisted. “I’ll help you, but if you fail…”

“I won’t.” Arya declared. “This is a time for beasts and a beast I shall become. I am the She-Wolf and I’ll make sure the North remembers it.”  


	29. Chapter 29

The wind blew furiously and cold through the naked branches. From a distance she could hear the sounds of men talking, walking and eating. A great number of them heading North and a second group hiding in the shadows of the forests, covered in mud and smelling of death.

With winter upon them such a huge gathering was a blessing. The small ones were restless and avid for a taste of flesh. The She-Wolf sniffed the air around her and tasted the air with the tip of her tongue. For the first time in a long while she didn’t feel alone, nor frightened. Everything was familiar and strangely welcoming to her.

He was close too. Her quiet brother with red eyes and white fur.  Soon she would be home and her pack would be complete.

The feeling of rough fingertips sneaking under her garments woke her up with a startle. He kissed her neck and Arya sighed as she realized that Jon was very much awake and craving for her. Although Val had warned her about the risks, Arya could not deny him. Not when she needed him to be happy and distracted.

His hands were agile in removing her clothes and exposing her skin to his touch. Jon brough her body closer to his and Arya moaned as she felt his hard cock pressed against her back. Jon was more than ready to take her, while she still needed time and patience to enjoy the act.

Jon pinned her to the matters and got on top of her while still half dressed. Her eyes reached his and for a brief second Arya thought she had seen his brother inside them. Not that dark stranger she was married to, nor even the former Lord Commander...No. Her brother was a bastard boy with sad eyes and a gentle heart.

Soon the image was gone and once more he was looking at her with hunger. Half a dragon, half a wolf. A beast disguised as a man, taking a girl tainted by death as his mate. He kissed her lips furiously before sucking her breasts and belly. Arya had to cover her mouth his both hands to contain the small cries and moans of pleasure as he suck at her cunt.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him back to her. She kissed him with devotion as he entered her with an abrupt movement.

Those moments were precious and holy like the red eyes on a heart tree. Arya allowed him to make love to her and in many ways it felt like a goodbye gift.

Once she was done with her plan, Jon would hardly forgive her treason. It was necessary though. Wars were costly and they couldn’t afford losing men in battle when they had yet to prepare for the whites and a war for the Iron Throne.

Bolton was a worm. No more than a nuisance to be disposed of as soon as possible. She would deal with him in her own way. Once Jon was over he would sleep soundly for a couple of hours. That was all the time she had to escape. She would ignore her plan just for a while, just to feel him inside her and all the universe falling to place around her.

Jon’s seed filled her and again she thought about children…

He would be king soon and heirs were an imperative to any monarch. Even if they were to live a quiet life at Winterfell, she still had obligations to her own family’s legacy. Children weren’t an option for them. They were vital for a number of reasons, but not during a war.

Jon rested on top of her for a while before rolling to his side of the bed.  Arya rested her head on his chest and delighted at the feeling of his finger brushing her naked skin.

“I had a strange dream.” He finally broke the silence and there was fondness in his voice. “I dreamed of Nymeria.”

“I dreamed of her too.” Arya said with a half smile on her lips. “Sometimes I feel her so close that I can almost touch her.”

“She was near...Hiding in the woods with a thousand wolves behind her. I could feel her...Ghost could feel her too.” He said.

That was something they hardly talk about. The wolf dreams were another thing they shared. Jon had said something about  _ wargs _ and wildling’s beliefs, but never bothered to explain it to her. Arya simply embraced those dreams and allowed to wolf to take in. If that was yet another kind of sorcery that was just another sin she would indulge.

“I had the same dream.” Arya whispered. “I would like to have her pack to fight on our side, just like Grey Wind did with Robb.”

“I can’t deny it would be of great help.” Jon agreed. “We should sleep while we can, love.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly. “It won’t be long until they reach us. I know...It is a dangerous thing to ask from you, but please don’t even think about getting near the battlefield. I’ve made arrangements for Lady Mormont to take you to somewhere safe if things get complicated. Just...don’t fight me in this.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” She answered. “I refuse to leave you again.”

“As if I would ever let go of you.” He kissed her again. “Once we are home, things will be easier. I can barely wait to shout to the world that you are mine and I’m yours.” 

“Sleep now.” She said sweetly, in a voice meant to tell lies. Jon smiled at her, perfectly content with the pretty scenery he had created in his mind and the illusion that she was subscribing to it without question.

There was a part of her that loved him without reservation, but not even Jon would ever be able to hold her back once her mind was settled. Whas she was about to do was for love and no other reason. Everything she wanted was to protect him and her people, even if that meant to betray his trust.

It didn’t take long for him to sleep. Arya admire him for a few seconds. It was so unusual to see him so peaceful.

After a while, she sneaked out of bed and got properly dressed for her journey through the night. With a bit of luck she would reach Reed’s men in the rear before the break of dawn.

Val was waiting for her near the stables holding a bag with supplies prepared for Arya’s journey. The wildling princess was assuming a great risk and for that Arya would be forever grateful. She could only hope that Jon’s rage wouldn’t hit Val.

“I guess this is it.” Val declared once Arya was on top of the horse. “The southern gate in unattended for now, but you must be fast. It won’t take much until the guards come back.”

“Thank you, Val.” Arya said with gratitude. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“I hope you come back in one peace, girl. The gods know that the Crown is likely to kill me if anything happens to you.” The wildling princess said with concern. “If you succeed though...You’ll be securing the survival of my people and for that I’ll follow you until my last breath.”

“I can only hope to prove myself worthy of your loyalty, Val.” Arya said. “Take care of him and Jeyne. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“I’ll do my best. Now off you go.” She slapped the horse and the beast ran in the dark night.

Arya crosse the southern gate without much effort. The night was so cold that her breath turned to fume and she could feel her fingers hardening. She couldn’t stop, not even for a second. She would kill Bolton with her bare hands and end that war before it even started.

Reed should be near, bleeding Bolton’s army and undermining his numbers with his dirty fight. A bit of poison would only make things faster.

She couldn’t afford looking back and having second thoughts. She could only hope to be successful and that Jon would be reasonable once he found out about her plan.

She was heiress to Winterfell and the rightful Queen in The North. Her people was counting on her to keep them safe. The wildlings were counting on her to survive. Jeyne was counting on her to avenge everything she had suffered. Alysanne was counting on her to see her children again...Jon was counting on her to be his queen and most powerful ally.

She was Arya Stark of Winterfell and she would do her duty. She would kill Roose and Ramsay Bolton and have their heads on spikes as a warning to all of her enemies.

In the dark night she heard a distant sound of a thousand wolves howling and it gave her chills. She suddenly wasn’t cold or afraid. She was thrilled with excitement as she could almost taste the blood in her mouth.

The sensation came, powerful and familiar as ever. Her mind touched another, embraced it as if it was an old and dear friend.

_ Humans...Too many to count. _ The other voice said in her mind.  _ A feast. _

In Braavos she had seen through the eyes of cats and every now and then she would peep through Nymeria’s eyes but never for long. This time they seemed to speak the same language.

Arya thought about the poison in her bag and the wolf’s mind immediately replied... _ You’ll ruin our food. _ In the quietness of her own thoughts Arya found a powerful ally.

As she ran, she suddenly felt someone, or something else following her. She looked behind just to face the massive figure of the white wolf following her with his teeth bared in anger. 

Arya stopped her horse since it was useless to compete against Ghost. The beast circled her carefully and obviously angry with her rebel attitude. Beast and man were much alike and she could almost hear Jon’s voice in the wolf’s silence.

She walked toward Ghost and after a bit of animosity he allowed her to get near. Arya touched his neck and caressed him a bit as if the beast was nothing but a lap dog.

“Easy now.” She whispered. “I’m not running away.” She touched the wolf’s forehead with her own. “I’m trying to save everyone. I can’t allow him to die again, can I? I know you understand me and I need your help.” The wolf gave her face a teasing lick and Arya could feel Jon telling her it was too dangerous. “I need to find her. Help me find Nymeria and we will finish this battle before it even starts.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	30. Jon

He felt suddenly cold and restless. His breath became labored as if he was running for his life. Everything around had been kissed by snow and the only thing in his mind was panic.  _ She escaped! She is gone! _

Jon woke up and it felt like coming back to life once more. His was still naked and the room smelled heavily of sex. He looked around hoping to find her still sleeping by his side or resting by the fire as she usually did.

Not even a shadow of her remained. Arya had left her clothes behind, but carried her weapons. Jon jumped out of bed and got dressed as soon as he could even though his confusion made it quite a difficult task. Why would she leave in the middle of the night? Why would she abandon him like that? Was she disgusted? Tired of him already?! Didn’t...Didn’t she love him?

Those were questions his mind couldn’t avoid and they hurt more than any blade he had ever felt against his flesh. He left the room tasting blood and billis in his mouth and anyone that crossed his pass would be in serious danger.

How could she leave when they were about to give battle to Bolton?! Unless...Unless Arya have decided to kill him on her own!

She was mad! That was a death wish! He had to stop Arya before Bolton had the chance to lay a hand on her! He would kill that bastard! Tear his heart out and serve it to her to feast upon if needed, but Bolton would never touch her!

He went to the stables looking for a proper horse. He cursed under his breath. Every man responsible for guarding the gates would be executed if anything happened to her!

From a distance he saw the elegant and slender silhouette of a pale woman. In the darkness she looked like a ghost and for a second he thought it to be Ygritte coming back from the dead to curse him. She pulled a dagger out of instinct and Jon recognized her.

“What are you doing here at such an hour?” He asked angrily. “You should be in your quarters with Jeyne!”

“I had my own urges to settle.” Val answered sharply. “Even I need a good fuck every now and then.”

“I don’t bloody care if you were fucking a man or another. What I care about is the safety of this place! Was your partner one of the guards?!”

“The guards?! No! I wasn’t anywhere near the gates.” She said vehemently. “Anyway...Why are you so angry about?”

“Have you seen Arya?” He asked sharply, pretty much ignoring everything Val had said.

“No...I haven’t seen her.” She answered. “Maybe she is with Jeyne.”

“She isn’t.” He answered coldly. “Ghost is chasing her across the woods. I must go and find her before Bolton has the chance.”

Jon didn’t care a single bit if that sentence had made any sense to her. That wasn’t the time for long explanations or anything of the sort. He needed a fast horse and all the luck he could guet in order to find Arya before it was too late.

“It’s a dangerous thing to do on your own and alone.” Val replied. “You must think about it carefully before making anything stupid!”

“Stupid?!” He growled at her in a dangerous way. One more word and he wouldn’t mind to kill her so terribly. “She is out there! ALONE! I must find her! This could very much undermine all of our ambitions and achievements here!”

“Right now you are the one making a scandal and risking everything!” Val answered back. “I’m not a fucking kneeler, but I know how much difficult your life would get if people had the confirmation that you have been fucking your sister since she got here.”

That discussion was becoming annoying and pointless, almost as if she was trying to buy her time with him. Maybe...Maybe that was exactly what Val was doing. Delaying him. Preventing him to get to Arya and prevent a disaster.

“You helped her!” The accusation came out of his mouth like poison as his hand reached the sword. “This is treason!”

Val reached her dagger once more and the gleam in her eyes left no doubt that she wouldn’t turn her back to a fight. He gave one step toward her, ready to hit her hard with his blade, but before it was even possible another might voice roared from behind him.

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING?!” Tormunds voice could be heard from a distance.

Jon ignored him and once more prepared the attack,  but his blade got blocked by another. It took him a while to realize that a short and stout person had got on his way, with sword and shield in hands.

“This is hardly the time for a fight, boy!” Another woman’s voice. Jon recognized Lady Mormont’s voice from behind the shield.

She hit him hard with her shield, only using her sword to block an attack from above as she pulled him back. Eventually Jon felt a powerful pair of arms holding him from behind and immobilizing him.

Lady Mormont knocked the sword out of his hand while Tormund kept him still.

“Are you mad, Crow?!” Tormund asked in a surprisingly low tone. “Do you want everybody to listen to you?”

“Let go of me!” He growled as he kicked the air. “She is a traitor!”

“That’s a dangerous accusation to make especially when we depend so heavily on the willings forces.” Lady Mormont answered harshly. “You better cool your head before speaking of treason.”

“She helped Arya to escape! I must get to her before Bolton does!” Jon insisted.

“Escape?” Lady Mormont looked at him with dangerous caution. “I never knew she was a captive. Why would she need to escape from her own brother, I wonder?”

“That’s not the time for picking on words.” Tormund replied. “Why would the girl do such a thing, Snow?”

“Kill Bolton, or something just as stupid!” He gave up fighting once he realized that Tormund wouldn’t put him down unless he acted as a reasonable person. “Let go of me already.”

“If we are going to talk about this it would be for the best to do it somewhere discreet.” Tormund declared. “This is a tricky thing for a commander to shout before a battle.”

“Aye.” Lady Mormont agreed. “Better talk about it at the maester’s tower.”

Jon agreed although he had a nasty feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t Tormund’s leader, so the wildling didn’t owe him subordination. Lady Mormont was another matter entirely. He was her commander, if not her Lord. Her conduct was nothing but an act of insubordination.

They walked silently through the night until they reached the maester’s tower. The door was locked behind by Tormund. Jon looked at Alysanne and Val with sheer anger. His instincts spoke of rage and blood. He wanted to kill both of them for the audacity, even if he knew that they were key points in his army.

“Now we talk like civilized people.” Lady Mormont said bluntly. “What is this fuss all about?”

“Arya is gone. She isn’t in Castle Black and I have reason to believe that she went after Bolton to kill him on her own.” Jon snapped back. “Val helped her in her plan.”

“Do you have proof of it?” Tormund questioned. “I won’t stand here listening to your accusations against one of my free folk and do nothing about it. If Val did what you just said, prove it.”

“She was roaming around the stables!” Jon insisted furiously. “She couldn’t have been there and not see Arya escaping!”

“Not all of us have inhuman powers, Lord Snow.” Lady Mormont said. “The girl could be busy tending to her needs. You, on the other hand, is directly responsible for Lady Stark’s security. You had claimed the responsibility. I don’t understand why the girl found the necessity to run away in the middle of the night.” That woman had never licked him. Alysanne Mormont looked at him with suspicion and defiance as if she knew there was something wrong there. Something he was hiding and that never failed to make Jon uneasy near her.

“Mind your words and tone, my lady. I’m not one of you man for you to reproach.” Jon replied sharply. “I’m Ned Stark’s son as much as Robb was!”

“Let us make something quite clear here.” Lady Mormont cut him bluntly. “My loyalty is sworn to Lady Stark and no one else. That girl is my liege lady, not you. As far as I understand you are her advisor in matters of war, making you one of the commanders in this army, but not my general. Her disappearance is quite convenient to your own claim right now and I’m not buying your temper tantrum.”

“You openly distrust me and accuse me of treason against my own sister?!” Jon’s rage was quite palpable at this point. He wanted nothing but to kill Alysanne with his bare hands for the audacity. “Are you mad?!”

“Oh! So you do remember that she is your sister!” Alysanne Mormont replied with disdain and anger. “You better keep this thought in your mind, Snow! She is your sister and I don’t recall kneeling and pledging my loyalty to either a Targaryen or a Lannister!”

He swallowed his rage and pride for the sake of his alliances, but his honest desire was to behead the She-Bear for the audacity. Tormund must have noticed his anger and soon his massive body got between Jon and the Mormont woman.

“Now both of you should calm down.” Tormund’s voice demanded sense from them. “The Stark girl is gone for now and this news could very much ruin the troops morale is given in the wrong way.”

“Tormund is right.” Val agreed just to test Jon’s limits. “This information can’t get out of here.”

“It’s funny that you don’t even bother to deny your participation in her escape! What if Bolton finds her?! Do you have the slightest idea of what he will do to her?!” Jon nearly roared. “I haven’t fought all this time just to lose her in such a stupid way!”

“She is far from being a helpless creature, Snow.” Alysanne said sourly. “The girl escaped King’s Landing. She survived the King’s Road, Harenhall and Braavos! Give her some credit because as far as I can see she might yet outlive all of us. If anyone ask...We will tell the troops she went to Reed to coordinate the attack.”

“We should send a raven to Reed and inform him. Arya might seek his help.” Jon sighed out of frustration.

“That would risk her security and Reed’s.” Alysanne added. “For now...The only thing we can do is wait for news.”

“As for you, Crow…” Tormund added. “You better keep this temper of yours under control or I’ll have to knock some sense inside your dumb head.”

The discussion didn’t last long after that. Tormund and Alysanne took Val back to her quarters leaving Jon alone with all his fears.

For the first time in years he cried. He didn’t remember doing it since he was a boy. The panic was hard to control and the thought of losing Arya was unbearing. Was he fated to lose her one way or another? Was it what Melissandre’s fires had been trying to warn him of?

He could only hope that she would succeed in her crazy plan. He could only hope she would come back to him safe and sound.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get tense between Jon and the women that surround him at this point. I particularly like the interaction with Alysanne. Alys doesn't like him and since Arya is her rightful lady, she doesn't see Jon as her superior. Worst, she sees him as a possible threat to Arya's claim. It funny to see that although Alys isn't an innocent maiden, she doesn't see the obvious about Jon and Arya when everybody else already figured out what is going on there.  
> I hope you like and reviews are appreciated.


	31. Chapter 31

If there was any doubt about her dislike for Lord Snow, those have been put to rest once she stopped him from attacking the wildling princess. Not that Val was a helpless maiden or a meek creature of any sort, but the conditions were fairly uneven and Snow would have split her in two.

Since she had been introduced to Ned’s bastard a lingering sensation that something about Snow was terribly wrong took root inside of Alysanne Mormont. Jon Snow was very much protective about his sister. One could even say that he loved her dearly, but a bastard is never to be trusted in matters of succession. He craved for power and autonomy, but as long as Arya Stark lived he would only reach so much. No man has ever accepted to be inferior to a woman kindly and Alys doubted Jon Snow to be any different in this.

In the following days they had avoid each other for the sake of their battle. No word came from Reed about the Lady Stark and that made Lord Snow nearly savage.

_ I’ve seen desperate men before, but never quite like this. Now he is an opponent that Bolton would be wise to fear. _ The thought came to her mind as she saw him across the yard, all dressed in black armor and displaying the Stark sigil in his breastplate.  _ He is bold. That much I’ll give him. _

“Stop looking at the Crow before I start thinking that you find him attractive.” Tormund’s voice sounded low and boisterous as ever.

“He is attractive, but I would rather knock him down then fuck him.” She answered sourly. “We shouldn’t be seen together.”

“Aye. I know.” Tormund answered with a smirk. “We are about to fight and there’s no way to predict if we will come out of this alive, so...Fuck it.”

“I’ve missed you.” She couldn’t help saying it in a muffled laugh.

“And I missed you.” He answered with a remarkable tone of fondness in his voice. “What is your problem with the Crow anyway?”

“I don’t trust him.” Alys answered without looking at the wildling chieftain. “I know you are not familiar with our ways. In the North a boy comes before a girl in inheritance, but Snow is a bastard son...That means he can’t inherit the titles. He can’t be named Lord of Winterfell or King in The North, no matter how much he desires. Lady Stark is the rightful heiress, but I don’t think he will ever let her rule.”

“You think he is plotting to take her position?” Tormund asked with a hint of disdain. “I don’t think you have reason to think like that. He bloody loves the girl.”

“I never said he didn’t love her. I said he will try to stripe her from her rights as soon as he can or rule through her.” Alys pointed. “If he does, I’ll find myself taking up arms to defend the girl to my last breath.”

“It’s what you fear that will happen to our girl?” He asked carefully.

“In a way...Yes.” Alys answered with a pang in her heart.

“How is she?” Tormund asked shyly. “Does she know about me?”

“She knows her father is a warrior and killed a giant.” Alys answered with a shy smile. “She asks about you every now and then and once I’ve found her telling the same stories to Jeor. Serena is a nice girl. She has a bit of your sense of humor and your eyes.”

“I would like to meet them.” Tormund sighed. “It’s not fair, Alys.”

“Well…” She said calmly. “I guess I can’t deny you this, if we survive this hell. I’ll think about something.”

“Maybe...We could...I don’t know.” He smirked at her. “Make another baby together. I’ve alway thought that three was a good number.”

“Ask me about it tomorrow, if we are both alive. I might give you the answer you want.” She muffled a nervous laugh.

She walked away from the courtyard and Tormund followed her to the top of the Wall. They stood there, in silence while looking at the horizon. They could see the fire coming from Bolton’s camp and an army that was still strong, in spite of Reed’s efforts.

Alys would be a fool if she said that she wasn’t afraid. There was always a risk, but Lady Mormont chose to keep her faith in Howland Reed, her mother, and Lady Stark.

_ That girl is a survivor and a fighter to the bone. I hope she will succeed in her plan and prove herself to be the Queen we need and deserve. _ She closed her eyes for a second.  _ Serena...Jeor...Lyanna, Jorelle, Lyra, mother...I must survive for all of you. Dacey, wherever you are...I miss you, sister. I’ve never wanted to be in your place, but now that I am...Please, stay with me in spirit and help us win this fucking war. _

“What do you think?” She finally asked him.

“Southerners die just like anyone else.” Tormund answered soberly. “But it’s a hell of an army.”

“We have reinforcement coming from the South. They are also tired from the march.” She sighted. “Let us hope it will be enough.”

“What if it isn’t?” Tormund looked at her with evident anxiety. “There are two kids waiting for you back home.”

“What do you mean? That I should go back to Bear Island and let others fight for me?” Alysanne asked sharply. “That’s not me, Tormund. I wasn’t born to sit behind and pretend that I don’t care about what is happening.”

“You could at least try to preserve your damn life? Just...Don’t put yourself in front of an arrow or a sword. Go back to the kids in one piece and don’t make me tell them that their mother isn’t coming back.”

“I have no intention of leaving this world any time soon.” She allowed those words to come out in a gentle tone for a change. “Besides...I still want to give you the answer that you want to hear after the battle.”

Even if the world was about to end, they grinned at each other with the promise of a better future.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give Alys and Tormund a moment before the battle and a glimpse on their awkward relationship. I also wanted to show Tormund and a somewhat responsible father. He has been kept away from the children's lives because Alys didn't allow for a number of reasons. They care about each other and respect each other. They are also incredibly horny whenever they are together, so...Maybe we can expect a new baby bear in the near future. XD  
> I hope you'll like it and...Next chapter we'll have the great reunion of Arya and Nymeria XD.  
> Reviews are appreciated.


	32. Arya

It took half a day to the darkest part of the woods. Arya could hear from a safe distance the sounds of Bolton’s men. At this point it was too late for her to use poison. The army was already moving and would reach Castle Black in a matter of hours. All of her hopes rested in Nymeria’s pack and the possibility of using them as a surprise element.

She could also feel in the quietness of the forest the steady breath and furtive eyes of the cragnomans that had been bleeding the army like a curse. She could also hear the ferocious growls and snarls in sign of threat. The wolves approached her with fear and curiosity. Ghost stood by Arya’s side like a faithful guardian just to make sure none of the small grey cousins would try to harm her.

It would be a lie if Arya told she wasn’t afraid, but there was also an element of enchantment in that moment. She felt powerful and magnificent in a way that she had never felt before. A true queen among wild creatures. Arya looked ahead just to see the giant she-wolf walking toward her with defiance. It was when she realized that the only reason why Arya felt so powerful and regal was because Nymeria was indeed a queen. She was the alpha.

It wasn’t the presence of a human what made the pack uneasy. It was Ghost’s presence and the idea that Nymeria wasn’t the only direwolf in the territory. Ghost was a male and also very much used to rule his own life, even when he lived a casi domesticated one.

He was even bigger than Nymeria and that could easily turn into a fight if the direwolves didn’t recognize each other as a pack member. Ghost didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by Nymeria’s presence. In fact, the wolf swayed his tail and straightened his torso as if trying to make a good impression.

Arya, on the other hand, felt a bit emotional by that moment. It had been so many years just feeling her from a distance that it felt a bit surreal to finally face her again.  _ Forgive me, Nymeria. I’ve never wanted you to go away. _

The she wolf walked toward Arya, but before she could do anything she stood in front of Ghost and sniffed the air around him. They both circled each other for a while and Arya noticed how they looked like her and Jon during their first interaction after so many years. They were trying to get reacquainted.

Their necks touched. They sniffed each other, licked and bit each others’ ear in sign of affection. It was a lovely scene for one to witness and Arya couldn’t help smiling at it. They were part of the same pack and maybe that was the first time Nymeria had been confronted by an equal in a long while.

When Nymeria finally turned to face her it was with a hint of grievance. Arya had wronged Nymeria and she knew it. Even if her sole purpose was to protect the direwolf from Cersei’s rage, Nymeria felt betrayed.

Arya gave the first step and Nymeria turned her face away. The she-wolf never tried to scare her off or impose a distance though. Arya touched her neck and caressed her in a way she used to do back at Winterfell.

“I’m sorry.” Arya whispered. “I was trying to save you. Cersei would have killed you if you stayed.”

The wolf looked at her with wicked intelligence playing inside its eyes. Nymeria licked her face gently and Arya hugged her in answer. Ghost stood there, looking at them in silent approval and waving his tail in sign of happiness.

“I need your help.” Arya said. “I want you to feast on Bolton’s flesh. Let us make them remember who rules the North and go home together.”

Arya often wondered if Nymeria was a totally independent being, or if she was the embodiment of Arya’s wild nature. Sometimes Arya was certain that a part of her soul - the purest and wildest part - had left her body to live inside Nymeria’s. Maybe that was the reason why they have never been truly separate.

She felt her mind and Nymeria’s becoming one and the same, just like she had done with the cats in Braavos and in her wolf dreams. She was Arya Stark, but she was also the she-wolf.

Nymeria howled and soon all the wolves flocked behind her in formation. Ghost stood by her side like a guard.

She could hear the movimentation coming from the camp and the drums calling for war. Poison at that point would be pointless. She would give them battle along with Reed’s men and Mormont forces that waited for the sign deep in the woods.

Nymeria lowered her massive body allowing Arya to mount her like a horse. Arya didn’t question the attitude and simply followed her instincts. Ghost followed them closely as they moved through the trees.

A thousand wolves or more following her closely. Her very first army ready to her very first battle. Arya had never felt that much power nor that much freedom before. She closed her eyes and held to Nymeria’s fur tightly as the speed increased.

Both direwolves ran vigorously through the frozen forest. Nymeria could hear the sounds of the men hiding in the trees summoning their courage to follow the pack with their arrows, swords, spears and poisoned blades. She could feel their thirst for blood and a dirty fight.

Arya grabbed Needle’s scabbard. Her fingers found comfort in the sensation of the soft grey leather against her skin. It reminded her of Jon. The very sensation of his skin pressed against hers.

She held her sword and felt him near, along with her father and even  Syrio Forell. She was the wolf. She was the freezing wind. She was the water dancer and water’s fury. The was the bloody storm and the ferocious blizzard. She was Arya Stark and she would take back everything that had been stolen from her family.

_ I’m coming, Jon. Please don’t do anything stupid. Don’t let him make you lose your reason. I’m coming with help. I’m coming with an army. _

The speed was breathtaking and once they got to open field Arya could see Bolton’s flags swaying in the air while they moved against Castle Black’s gates.

Flaming arrows raining on them along with boiling oil. She could even imagine Jon running from one place to another, shouting orders with Longclaw in hand.  _ He will be furious once he sees me. That is something I’ll have to deal with later. _

She closed her eyes once more before grabbing her sword.

_ Bath me in blood, Nymeria. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end the North won't be taken by poison and here we have Arya fully embracing her wild nature once she is reunited with Nymeria. Next chapter we have the battle and a very pissed off Jon. The next chapter is ready to go, but I'll have it published only on Sunday, after GOT's episode is aired.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	33. Jon

He could feel the adrenaline intoxicating his blood as the army approached with siege machines and waving banners. Tormund had managed to bring some giants to their cause and Jon’s hopes rested on their mighty shoulders, along with Reed’s men and Mormont support.

He tried to get a glimpse of her from a distance. Anything that could tell that Arya had either been successful in her plan or hadn’t been taken as a hostage. He saw nothing but snow and the gathering of a numerous army that looked a bit tired and somewhat skinny.

Bolton still had the numbers, but in a closer look it wasn’t difficult to see that they lacked supplies and looked a bit sickly.  _ At least Lady Mormont has a good mind for strategy. She was right about their march and the effects of the weather in their numbers and morale. I might yet spare her if we survive this hell. _

“HOLD!” He shouted to the archers that waited his command to release their arrows. His closed fist high in the air as he observed the enemy approaching the Wall. One mistake and they would be doomed.

_ Just a bit closer...Now! _

“LOSE!” He shouted once more and the arrows rained on Bolton’s army.

It was enough to dismantle the vanguard as they tried to reach the gate. The arrows kept raining on them, but at that point he could barely wait for a close combat. Jon wasn’t interested in a long siege. He hadn’t come back from the dead just to die of starvation in Bolton’s hands. No matter the outcome, only one bastard would remain alive at the end of that day.

“Prepare the oil!” He shouted once more. “Keep the arrows coming! WHERE IN THE SEVEN HELLS IS REED?!”

“Somewhere behind the enemy’s lines, I hope.” Alysanne answered as a matter of fact. “He will come and so will my mother.”

“You better be right, Lady Bear.” Jon answered sourly and without an ounce of respect for the woman. “I want Greyjoy here! The woman can fight, so she will fight!”

“What about Theon Greyjoy?” Alys asked.

“He will remain in the ice cells. I need guarantee that Asha won’t turn her cloak.” He said sourly. “I also need him very much alive until there’s no doubt about Jeyne’s identity.”

Jon turned to the courtyard just to face the three mighty giants preparing their clubs and spears for battle. Maybe they would be able to bring the siege machines down, but what really mattered was the effect of them in the troops morale.

He turned once more to face the enemy that already tried to put the gates down. The boiling oil was prepared and as soon as they broke through the gates those men would be fried alive.  _ They deserve worst. They deserve to be flayed by my hands and have their bodies rotting at Winterfell’s gates. _

Arya was nowhere to be seen and that only served to make him anxious. Bolton was safely staying at the rearguard, carefully protected by a small group of guards.  _ A coward to the end. It seems he is only brave when dealing with women and powerless men. Come and get me, bastard. I’ll serve your fucking heart to as a dinner to my wife! _

The gates came down as Jon expected they would and the oil was spilled releasing the cries of dying men in excruciating pain.

That made Bolton’s forces exitate and Jon gave the sign for the giants to come forward to devastate the vanguard.

The three giants came out of the gate smashing soldiers while swaying their clubs. The wildling followed them, breaking through the enemy’s lines that prepared to move to the flanks.  _ No! Don’t let them!  _

Jon went straight to the courtyard where his horse was already prepared for him. He took Longclaw in his hands and ran through the gates, followed by Mormont’s men and a few spearwives. Once mistake and all would turn to ashes. He couldn’t allow Bolton to surround them. Where were Reed’s men?! Where were the other troops that had sworn to come to his aid?! Where was Arya?!

He cut down several men on foot and managed to dismount a horseman or two before his own horse was trespassed by a spear, nearly crushing his leg in the process. Once he was on foot, Jon allowed all the rage and despair to take him as his sword cutted flesh like a hot blade through butter.

He tried to see Bolton without much success as Alys Mormont and Asha Greyjoy passed by him with sword and axe in hand in a petty competition about who had killed more. 

A horseman nearly cut him down with its sword, but Val’s spear went straight through the man’s heart in time to save Jon from a second death.  _ It won’t be enough to make me forgive you.  _ The thought crossed his mind bitterly.

In the mess of dead bodies and constant flow of enemies, a mighty sound cutted the chaos. A howl followed by several others.  _ A time for beasts….Wolves, bears...The priestess vision. _

Jon looked ahead just to see a pack of a hundred wolves or more, followed closely by small men with spears, swords and arrows. _Reed!_ _Reed is here!_

The monstrous wolves leaded the pack. It was when Jon finally saw her. Arya mounting the ferocious she-wolf with Needle in hand and all the might of a warrior queen.

The wolves took down Bolton’s guard by ripping their throats and provoking chaos among the army. Jon was suddenly taken by waves of panic and dazzlement as Arya revealed her darkest colors. She was a warrior, an assassin, a queen...She was death in all her terrifying glory when Jon embraced his own dark nature.

He cut through what remained of the dismantled army just to get closer to her. He wanted to catch Bolton with his own hands as the bastard tried to run away from the wolves.

It took only one move from Nymeria for Bolton to fall flat on his back as the she-wolf bare her teeth at him. Arya’s murderous eyes wouldn’t move away from the man and it was plain enough that adrenaline had got the best of her. She wouldn’t stop, or at least that was what he thought.

Nymeria bit his arm off making him cry out in pain, but never aimed for his neck or any other vital part. At that point Bolton was disarmed and defenseless for enough time for Jon to get to him.

The she-wolf kept the bastard pinned to the floor as he screamed over the pain of his lost arm. Jon looked up to Arya briefly. Both of them high with rage, adrenaline and lust.

“I guess we must keep him alive for trial.” She declared darkly and out of cold reasoning.

Jon didn’t answer at first. He was still furious at her for the treason. He looked around and realized how the wolves and the support from South had finished the remains of Bolton’s army. He saw Asha carrying a wounded Val back to Castle Black. He saw Alys and Tormund nearly swallowing each other in a ferocious kiss filled with despair and need.

Jon kneeled by Ramsay’s side and grabbed him by the throat. He would gladly choke the bastard to death, but Arya was right. A trial was somewhat necessary.

“Look at me, bastard.” Jon nearly spat at his face. “You threatened to kill me. You said you would march North to get your wife back and eat my heart, now guess what?” Jon whispered darkly as his grip on Bolton’s throat tightened. “I will be the one to kill you. It won’t be fast. It won’t be painless. I’ll make you suffer just as much as you made that poor girl suffer and in the end...I’ll serve your heart to my beloved sister and the impostor you dared to call Arya Stark.” 

“Enough, Jon!” Arya said sharply as a conqueror queen would. He couldn’t help resenting her for ignoring his own authority and acting behind his back, but that was hardly the time for such a discussion. “Let us take him to the ice cells. There’s much to be done before we can claim back Winterfell.”

“Aye.” Jon agreed before summoning guards to drag Ramsay Bolton to the ice cells.

Arya dismounted Nymeria and stood by his side in silence for a while. They just observed as Bolton was taken and the wildlings gathered the dead bodies. They would need to burn all of them to prevent them from turning into blue eyed monsters.  _ The greatest fire the North had ever seen.  _

“it’s over.” She declared. “Bolton is ours.”

“Only Ramsay. Roose is still very much alive.” Jon answered sharply.

“For now. He doesn’t have a significant force to keep Winterfell or the Dreadfort at this point. It will take months until the Lannisters send reinforcements. Until there I bet every northerner will be eager to prove loyalty by sending us his head on a spike.” She said and there was so much certainty in her voice that Jon doubted for a second if she had ever needed him for anything at all.

“You won back the North.” He declared bitterly. 

“We won back the North.” Arya insisted.

He finally turned to face her properly. Her face was covered in blood and her hair as messy as if she was still a child. He took her by the nape and allowed his forehead to rest against hers. His breath was labored as he tried to deal with the anger and the throbbing erection caused by all the adrenaline.

“Never...Never act behind my back again.” He growled out of rage and for a second he saw fear within her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written a battle scene before and I don't think I'm particularly good at it. I tried my best to deliver a good scene and I hope you'll like it. It was a very interesting experience and soon we will find out how Jon will react to Arya's plan.  
> Reviews are highly appreciated.


	34. Chapter 34

From the tower she saw it when Ramsay was brought inside the castle. His arm had been torn apart and there was blood everywhere. She couldn’t help the panic the took over her all of a sudden, along with a wave of relief for finally being freed of that man.

_ He will be judge and condemned. Neither Lady Stark or Jon Snow will allow him to live. Once he is dead, I’ll be finally free. _ And yet she wouldn’t. The memory of everything she had suffered in Ramsay’s hands would stay printed in her soul forever. Every moment spent in his bed and every time he had hurt her were now a part of her.

What would be of her once Ramsay no longer existed? Would she ever be able to trust another man? Would she ever be able to overcome her fear? Would she ever love and trust anyone at all?

In the end Ramsay had damaged her beyond repair. The only thing that kept her going on was her loyalty to her mistress and the feeble hope of saving Theon from certain death by Jon Snow’s hands.  _ Maybe he will be pardoned once he reveals the plot. Jon Snow is a dangerous man, but he is still a just one. _

Maybe...Maybe Theon would finally reveal that Brandon and Rickon had never been found and killed.  _ My lady would be pleased to know that much about her siblings, but I don’t know what Jon will think of it. With the boys alive...Things will be complicated. _

She saw the mighty direwolves that looked like beasts from the seven hells. Ghost and Nymeria stood in the courtyard as a reminder of their masters’ true power. The had been feed and no one was bold enough to get anywhere near them.

The rest of the pack stood outside the castle, feasting on the flesh of fallen soldiers. Later the corpses would be burned, according to the wildling tradition.  _ A time for wolves indeed. What will I do now? What will be of me in this time for beasts. _

She heard the soft knock on the door and before she could answer Lady Stark opened it abruptly. The lady was all covered in mud and blood. Her breath was uneven and pupils dilated. She looked like a wildling woman, but Jeyne was glad to see her safe and sound.

Jeyne ran to her and Arya embraced her as a true friend.

“Hush, Jeyne.” Arya said it with a hint of affection. “I’m fine and you are safe now. I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” Jeyne asked unsure.

“Yes. A gift. A token of our gratitude to your services and some sort of compensation for everything you suffered.” Arya said before putting a dagger in her hands. “This is for you to use as you want, as long as you keep him alive for our trial.”

“Me?” Jeyne realized the dark meaning behind Arya’s words as she held the dagger tightly pressed against her chest.

“Yes.” Arya confirmed. “I promised you Ramsay would pay for everything he did to you. My name brought this tragedy upon you. I can’t erase what he did, but I can put him under your care for you to decide how he will suffer.” 

In many ways Jeyne wanted him to taste everything she had suffered. As she held the dagger tightly to her chest as if it were the greatest treasure of all times, Jeyne closed her eyes for a moment. Would it bring her any joy at all? Would she ever recover her innocence if she allowed herself one moment of blind savagery?

She wanted him to suffer. She wanted to hear him screaming, or at least a part of her did. Jeney didn’t realize that at that moment she was crying convulsively, nor that Lady Arya was holding her like a true friend would.

“I hope these are tears of joy.” Lady Arya said kindly as she fonded Jeyne’s hair.

They were indeed tears of joy, but also tears of sorrow as she mourned for the first time the innocent and naive Jeyne Poole. The girl that had died at King’s Landing along with her family. No matter the kind of sorcery or magic Lord Snow and Lady Stark had at their disposal...Jeyne Poole was dead, or at least broken beyond emend.

“Would it make you happy, my lady?” Jeyne asked between sobs. “Would it make you happy to kill all those who have done you wrong? Would it bring back your joy? Would it make Winterfell your happy home again? Would it...Would it bring Lady Catelyn, Lord Stark and Robb back for one last embrace?”

Lady Stark looked at her with understanding eyes, if not melancholic ones. That made Jeyne realize that Arya understood her more than she would have ever believed. In the end, both of them had died in King’s Landing and both had done terrible things in order to survive.

“It won’t make you clean again. It won’t bring back everything you lost.” Arya Stark declared. “At least you won’t feel as if you did nothing about everything they done to you. You won’t feel so powerless for a change.”

“Would you do it if you were in my place?” Jeyne asked her shyly.

“Yes, I would.” Arya replied without a trace of pride, but with a great deal of disappointment in herself. “I don’t like killing, Jeyne. There’s no joy in it. When you wake up in the next day you feel just as miserable and dirty as before, but...At least it gives me some comfort to know that I did something about it. That my father’s death won’t pass by unnoticed or without punishment. It’s not about returning to our youth or recovering our innocence. It’s a statement that we are not helpless victims of the world. A statement that we will fight for ourselves and for those who we love. Killing Cersei, the Freys, or even Jeoffrey would never bring back my father, mother and brother, but it would make the world understand that the North remembers and defends itself.”

Arya Stark smiled kindly before brushing her cheeks.

“You will never be who you once were, Jeyne.” Arya Stark said. “That I can’t give you back, no matter how much I want to. What I can do is promise you that you’ll always have a place at my table and that I’ll do my best to keep you safe. You’ll be free to rebuild your life as you see fit. Marry a boy you love, or don’t marry at all...Learn who to use weapons, poisons, or go back to your needlework. Build yourself a house and call it home, or travel the world and discover its wonders...This is your fresh start, Jeyne.”

“I...I want Theon Greyjoy to live, my lady.” Jeyne finally said even when she was sure that Lady Stark would be furious at that request.

“You know what he did, Jeyne.” Arya answered coldly. “I don’t know what he might have done to own your affection, but he killed my brothers. Bran and Rickon...A cripple boy and a toddler. I can’t possibly let him live after his treason.”

“He never did it, my lady!” Jeyne said in exasperation. “He never found them, nor Lord Reed’s children! They escaped Winterfell.”

“What are you talking about?” Arya looked at her with shock and disbelief.

“They are alive...Or at least they could be alive still.” Jeyne said immediately. “Don’t kill him, my lady. I beg you...Don’t kill him.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally Jeyne reveled that she knows Bran and Rickon escaped Winterfell and might be alive!  
> I like the interaction between Jeyne and Arya, especially in which concerns both of them mourning their lost innocence and how things will never be as they once were.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	35. Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might make you uncomfortable.

She went back to her chambers to wash away the blood from her face and hands. Her stomach suddenly became a mess and she felt like throwing up.

_ Bran...Rickon...They are alive. _ That thought felt like a blessing and a curse. There was nothing she wanted more than to hold them in her arms again and listen to their voices. Nothing would make her happier than that, and yet...If they were indeed alive, they would never understand or forgive everything she was doing for the sake of crowing Jon king.

Bran was the true Lord Stark of Winterfell. The head of House Stark and responsible for her, and Rickon was his true heir, not Arya. She had no idea of what to do with that piece of information, nor what Jon would do if he knew a thing about it.

So far they had been acting out of impulse to survive and make sure that Jon’s true identity would be revealed. She had given him everything out of trust, love and conviction that it was the only way for them to stay together.

She had given him her loyalty, her army, her maiden blood and her own hand in marriage just to come to a dead end.

Arya washed her hands and face as if she was trying to remove her own skin. Her palms and fingers got blood red as she scrubbed them furiously. She wanted to cry out of despair and confusion. She wanted her home, her family and the simplicity of the life she had before Robert came North. More than anything she wanted Jon Snow back. Not Rhaegar’s son, or the man she took for her husband in front of a heart tree in a secret wedding. She wanted the boy with snow melting in his hair. The one who used to complete her sentences and mess up with her hair.

Arya hear the door opening and closing abruptly, but ignored the presence of whomever had entered the room to disturb her moment. She closed her eyes and waited for his harsh voice full of outraged and accusations of treason.  _  You are just my first treason...How many more will rest on my shoulders once I’m done? Am I a Stark still? Will I ever be Arya Stark again?....Father....Mother….Robb...Forgive me. _

“You are hurting yourself.” His voice finally spoke as his hands tried to spot her from scrubbing her skin. “Stop it, Arya!”

“Leave me alone!” She shouted as she cried.

His grip tightened around her wrists until Arya stopped scrubbing her hands. She tried to pull him away and get some distance between them, but Jon never let go of her. He never would.

“Look at me.” He commanded like the king he would become. “I’m not going anywhere, so look at me!” His callous hands held her my her shoulders and shook her until Arya raised her eyes to meet his. “What in the seven hells is going on?”

She looked at him and for a second she feared his reaction. Jon looked at her with evident anger.

“Bran and Rickon…” She said. “Jeyne told me...They escaped, Jon. Theon never found them. They might still be alive somewhere. That’s...wonderful and also an unnecessary complication at this point. This could...Ruin everything!”

Jon sighed as his grip on her shoulders released a bit. His face was solemn and guarded like a mask. Jon loved them as siblings and would do anything for their sake, if...If that didn’t mean to give up on her.

“I suspected that much. I’ve seen Summer north of the Wall, but right now we have nothing to confirm if they are indeed alive.” His voice was controlled and even, if not a bit condescendent. “This is why you thought it to be necessary to tear off you skin? Are you suddenly feeling guilty about our plans?”

“You know how things could get complicated. Bran is Lord of Winterfell. He could change everything!” Arya said exasperated.

“With all due respect…” He took a deep breath. “Bran was crippled for life. As far as we know, a cripple boy wouldn’t survive in the wild north on his own and even if he did...How could he possibly claim Winterfell when you just turned yourself into a legend?” His voice suddenly became pragmatic and cold. “Unless what is really troubling you is to think about how they would react once the knew that I’m your husband now.”

His rough hands unclasped her cloak in a swift movement. Arya soon found herself trapped between Jon and the wooden table. Jon held her face between his hands and made her look straight to him.

“I thought you were gone for good.” He said in a low and dark tone. “I woke up in the middle of the night just to find out you were gone in some sort of suicidal quest. You betrayed me!” The outrage and lust were all too evident in his face. “You acted behind my back and now all this talk about Bran and Rickon...I can’t help feeling that you suddenly changed your mind about me.”

“I just helped you to win a battle with minimum lost to our army!” She snapped back. “Saving our resources and I would have poisoned everyone of them if I hadn’t found Nymeria in the woods. I am Lady Stark! I did it for the sake of my people and to save our resources for the wars to come!”

“You should have told me!” Jon said furiously as his hand reached her nape. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like you did!”

“You are not my master to command me! I am Lady Stark of Winterfell and right now your own claim rest on my name and support!” Arya roared back at him for the first time. Indeed it was the first time they argued like that and it broke her heart to realize it.

“You…” He said as he brought her face closer to his. “You are my wife! You own me loyalty, if nothing else!” She could feel his body tightly pressed against hers and his breath warm against her skin. “There’s no going back for us, Arya.”

Arya felt his erection pressing against her tights as he approached her. Jon was furious and still lustful because of the battle. He was also afraid and that was plain enough for her to see inside his eyes.

In that fear she saw a glimpse of her beloved brother and it was enough to take her home for a second. He was right. There was no going back and even if there was a way out of the mess they’ve made...Arya was pretty sure that she would stick with Jon until the end of time, no matter the cost.

She caressed his face in reassurance and that made him relax a bit.

“I did it for you and our people.” She said in a whisper. “I’m not some precious and frail treasure for you to keep inside a vault. This is who I am and you knew it all along. You put a sword in my hands and told he how to use it. Don’t be shocked whenever I decide to turn lessons into practice ”

“I thought...I thought I’ve lost you for good.” His eyes were red with barely contained tears. His hands were shaking. “I was terrified.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” She said gently as she untied his trousers and slid her hand under his clothes to touch his throbbing erection. Jon closed his eyes and his breath became uneven as he felt her touch. “I love you.”

At that Jon kissed her fervently and Arya felt a bit like a courtesan from Braavos buying his surrender and submission with kisses, sex and all the sweet things he so desperately wanted to hear from her lips.

Jon removed both their clothes with avid hands before sitting Arya on top of the table. The water and bow she had been using to wash her hands felt to the floor causing some noise. He spreaded her legs and entered her with a swift movement that made her gasp for air.

Arya pulled the hair from his nape at the sudden intrusion. He moved carelessly and with a hint of despair. Arya could feel him completely buried inside her. His movements were rough and painful at times, making her protest every now and them.

She kissed him and scratched his neck and scalp. Jon bit her neck, making her moan out loud as he kept moving in and out of her wet folds.

Eventually he stopped moving and that made her frustrated and confused.

“Turn yourself.” His voice commander in a low tone close to her ear. Arya obbey, turning her back at him.

Jon caressed her ass and gently pulled her to the table. Arya rested the weight of her upper body on her arms. She felt Jon touching her dripping cunt and moving up and down her ass. With a startle she felt his face nearly buried in her ass. His tongue doing unspeakable things to her, devious things as his fingers worked on her cunt. Arya shut her eyes as a long moan came out of her throat. He seemed determinate to make her wake up the dead ones with her sounds of pleasure.

Suddenly Jon replaced his tongue for his finger, taking her by surprise at the unfamiliar feeling. His free hand went straight to her throat and bringing her back close to his bare chest.

“Does it feel good?” He asked as his fingers worked at her ass. Jon kissed her neck as she threw he head back. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes!” She shouted as her nails scratched the wooden surface of the table.

“You…”He bit her shoulder with a hint of savagery. “You made me so hard today. It took me avery fiber in me to not fuck you in front of all the troops.” He added a second finger, making her legs uneven with the waves of pleasure. She was trying hard not to give in to orgasm and stand on her feet, but Jon was making it almost impossible. “I’m still hard for you.”

Jon removed his fingers and replaced them with the tip of his cock instead. Arya was suddenly shocked.

“I...I want to try something different.” His voice sounded wicked. “Can I?”

Arya nod in agreement.

“Relax…” He whispered. “Stay very still now.”

Slowly he guided his cock inside her. The pain came almost instantly, making her protest it. Jon’s hand touched her between her legs, making sure to stimulate her back to pleasure. He made it unbearably slow, allowing her to adjust to every inch of him until he was fully buried inside her again.

Jon’s breath was labored as he kept working on her cunt to the point of making Arya melt under his sweat body. Slowly Jon started to move. Every single trust was hard on both of them. Arya was lost in a mix of pleasure and pain at every trust. She could feel his fingers sticky with her wetness.

He worked her up close to climax nearly a dozen times without allowing her to get release. It felt maddening and frustrating until she could no longer control herself. She came violently under the weight of his body. Her muscles contracted all of a sudden, dragging Jon to his own climax.

Arya felt his hot seed filling her as she allowed her body to fall on top of the table. She felt sore and boneless while Jon tried to recover his breath and his senses.

She doubted she would be able to walk properly for a couple of days. Maybe that was his way of punishing her for her treason, or just make sure she wouldn’t try to run away again. Well...She might do the exact opposite of it, if it meant another like of wicked pleasure.

Once Jon got on his feet he took her up in his arms and carried her to bed. He seemed to be suddenly relaxed as he laid her down. He laid by her side and held her close to his naked body as his hands roamed her skin mindlessly.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked. Jon sounded like a completely different man once the anger and lust had burned out. His voice was soothing and carrying.

“Just a bit.” Arya answered in a low voice. She felt exhausted.

“Did you like it?” His voice was suggestive as he took her earlobe into his mouth.

“Very...Very much.” She could feel him grinning against the skin of her neck.

“Good to know.” His voice felt like a balm on her sore body. “Don’t fright me like that again. I can’t...I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“I’ve made my bed and I’m laying on it.” Arya answered. “This is a lifetime deal. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to hell after this one XP.  
> Ok...As you noticed Arya is finally realizing that her plans might not be as easy as she thought. She loves her siblings and there's no doubt about it, but so far she had been acting as if Jon and her were the only ones alive. Jeyne's revelation brought to surface all of her fears and she realizes that she is getting darker along with Jon at every step they take.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	36. Melissandre

She had seen the battle from the top of the wall. The carnage in all its glory. The She-Bear commanding men into the battlefield with her face painted in blood. Giant lizards announcing the cragnomans’ arrival. The she-wolf ahead her savage pack saving the day as Jon Snow opened his way through the enemy lines back to his lover’s arms. A time for beasts, just like Melissandre had said it would be.

By the end of the day she had been summoned by Lord Snow to the courtyard. A pyre had been prepared and it seemed to be her responsibility to take care of the funeral of those lost in battle. The bodies should be given to the flames in order to avoid them to come back to life as whites.

Melissandre wasn’t exactly surprised by it, nor by Lord Snow murderous disposition during the days Lady Arya had been gone. Melissandre even knew that she was the one to blame for such savage reactions. The man was terrified of losing his precious little sister even if it was all too clear that Arya Stark had kissed the God of Death’s lips and sealed an unholy pact.

That girl had a dark heart and a thirst for blood, just like Jon. In many ways the Red Priestess had seen in them the same soul split in two different bodies. Male and Female brought together for a greater purpose she had yet to figure out.

_ Two women...That was all too clear in her fire vision. Two women with their bellies round and heavy with the weight of an unborn child. Two women screaming on beds covered in blood. One of them dying after giving birth to wasted dreams while the other populated the world with mighty creatures. Only one of them would live to see the great deeds of those children. _

That prophecy had been eating Jon Snow alive. Plaguing his dreams and every second of his days even if avoiding the she-wolf’s bed was something out of question.

She heard all the noise coming out of their room after the battle. They had been lucky since all the castle seemed to be either fucking or drinking away their fears. Their passion plays sounded like a ferocious fight between two angry and lustful animals to the point of making Melissandre uncomfortable.

When the castle woke up in the following morning there was an execution square prepared for Ramsay Bolton’s trial. The She-Bear had been reunited with her family of warrior women. Lord Reed stood at the high table along with Alysanne Mormont and Lord Snow.

The Stark girl was the last one to arrive. She had been dressed in dark grey dress and a breastplate covered in leather. A thick cloak made of shadow cat fur kept her warm as she walked slowly to take her sit by Jon’s side.

Melissandre looked at both of them and couldn’t help noticing they looked like a royal couple in their matching clothes and looks.

A maester that came along with the supporting troops was ordered to write down everything that happened in the trial and later send messages to all the Stark’s banners, summoning them to answer to their call.

Ramsay Bolton was brought to the square. His clothes all covered in blood. His arm had been torn out by the wolves and the wound cauterised just to make sure he would live to face trial by the northerners’ justice.

“Here stands Ramsay Snow, natural son of Roose Bolton, to face trial for the crimes of treason. He plotted along with the Lannisters and Freys to kill Robb Stark and our fellow northerners during the Red Wedding.” Alysanne Mormont read the charges with a solemn voice. “He claimed Winterfell under the allegation of being married to Lady Arya Stark. He tortured, mutilated and raped. He murdered in cold blood and killed an innocent woman of starvation. Now...It’s the time for this monster to face trial for all his crimes and pay the blood price for them.”

The man laughed a humorless laugh. Blood dripped from his mouth that showed several teeth missing.

“Finish this bloody farce already.” Ramsay said with scarn in his voice.

“Bring the girl.” Jon Snow commanded in response.

The wildling chieftain brought Jeyne Poole to the center of the square. It was plain enough for anyone to see that the girl was shaking in fear.

“Please, present yourself.” Jon Snow said again and the girl nod in agreement.

“My name is Jeyne Poole. My father, Vyon Poole was a loyal servant to Lord Eddard Stark for many years. He died in King’s Landing when the Lannisters made Lord Stark a prisoner.” Jeyne said carefully as she avoided looking to Ramsay.

“How did you escape, Jeyne?” This time it was Lady Arya Stark to ask.

“I was spared and taken by Lord Petyr Baelish to a safe place. Later I was informed that I would be send back North to marry. I was instructed…” She took a deep breath. “I was instructed to behave as if I were Lady Arya Stark and my very life would depend on it. I should marry the natural son of Lord Bolton and as long as I played my role I...I would stay alive and have a home for myself.”

“Who is this man standing by your side?” Arya Stark asked calmly.

“My...My husband.” The girl started to cry. “Ramsay.”

“Did this man hurt you?” Jon asked sourly.

“Yes…” She said between sobbs. “He would hurt me even more whenever I said I wasn’t Arya Stark. He knew it...He knew I was an impostor all along.”

“Who gave you in marriage to this man?” Arya Stark conducted the inquiries with gentle and yet strong voice.

“Theon Greyjoy….Lord Stark’s former ward.” Jeyne said.

Jon Snow made a sign for Theon Greyjoy to be brought to the square. The man looked like an ancient thing. A ghost of whatever he had been. Just like Jeyne, he was shaking in fear.

“Theon Greyjoy, son of Ballon Greyjoy. Ward to the former Lord Stark.” The man presented himself and Melissadre observed with interest Lord Snow clenching his teeth in anger at the sight of him.

“TRAITOR!” Someone shouted in the crowd and the mob followed screaming.  _ TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITO! _

“Did you give this woman in marriage to Ramsay Bolton?” The Stark girl asked.

“Yes, my lady.” He answered in submission.

“Were you aware of her true identity?” Arya kept asking.

“Yes, my lady.” Greyjoy answered with tears in his eyes. “The eyes...Her eyes were different. Brown ones...You...I mean...Arya Stark has grey eyes, like her father, and...Would have spat on Ram...Ramsay’s face.”

The audience laughed a humorless laugh.

“You know me well, Theon.” Lady Stark said with a hint of humor. “Why did you lie then?”

“I...I was afraid.” He said. The pathetic creature was terrified and sobbing out loud. There was no pride, no strength, no dignity. That was a man broken beyond emend and worthy of pity. “It would hurt...So much...I just...I wanted to die, but he wouldn’t kill me. He would hurt me though...Cut me again.”

Asha Greyjoy stood in the crowd. She wouldn’t raise her head to face her brother. She seemed ashamed and powerless when confronted with everything her brother had suffered. Theon Greyjoy was a dead man already, the creature standing in front of them was nothing.

_ TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR! _

“As you can see, your own crimes won’t pass by unnoticed.” Lord Snow said sharply, making the Greyjoy boy shrink in fear. “You betrayed Robb! You betrayed the North!”

Melissandre noticed with a bit of shock the Stark girl touching Lord Snow’s hand in a silent and discreet pledge for mercy. In fact, that was a command. A way of telling him without words that it wasn’t his prerogative to decide.

“His crimes didn’t pass by unnoticed.” She declared in an unusual tone. She seemed suddenly frail and delicate like a proper lady.

That was acting, pure and simple. Good acting, but acting nonetheless. That wasn’t the girl who commanded a wolves’ pack into battle. That was the daughter of a lord or a maiden from a song, but not Arya Stark.

She looked to the crowd with tears in her eyes and a face that implored for mercy.

“Our is the old way. Those were my father’s words and something for the North to be proud of.” She said in a voice of conviction. “Theon’s crimes were great and had he been judged according to our law and tradition he would have been beheaded. He was never judged, though.” She pointed carefully. “The Boltons denied him a trial or the lawful punishment for his crimes. I’ve seen torture. I’ve seen grown men crying, screaming and shitting themselves in the hands of a torturer. Theon Greyjoy was deprived of his name.” The girl took a deep breath. “He was deprived of his integrity and tortured continuously to the point of considering death a gift. Now he stands in front of us and face all of these accusations. He is also responsible to bring Ramsay Snow to face justice and that shouldn’t be neglected.”

The girl walked toward Theon and in a gesture of calculated mercy she dried his eyes.  _ I can almost believe that she has a heart. _ Jon Snow looked at his sister with anger and yet he never tried to stop her.  _ He doesn’t like the taste of it, but he had agreed with this farce. There’s no other explanation to it. _

“Our is the old way, but that doesn’t make us barbarian.” Arya Stark declared fiercely and one by one the soldiers and noblemen present nod in agreement.  _ Impressive! _ “Robb was my brother. Brandon and Rickon were my brothers...Those who died at Winterfell were all dear to me and Theon Greyjoy should have payed with his death for everything he did. He payed more. He paid repeatedly and at this point his death wouldn’t be justice. That’s the reason why I call for mercy. Let the Seven Kingdoms know that in the North we know justice and mercy.”

The shields and spears hit the floor repeatedly in approval as the Stark girl looked at them intensely.  _ She is a Queen of Winter if not winter itself. They will love her for she is a beautiful lie. She cries and begs for mercy with a dagger hidden under her cloak. _

“WHAT OF THE BASTARD?!” The crowd asked and this time it was Lord Snow who raised from his seat

“Ramsay Snow is a traitor and therefore shall be punished with death.” Jon Snow declared.

Lord Snow took his sword in his hands. His eyes were intense and it was plain enough for anyone to see that he took a devious pleasure in that particular duty. Ramsay Snow laughed hysterically out of panic.

“You may say your last words.” Lord Snow said coldly.

Ramsay Bolton looked at the Stark girl standing between him and Theon Greyjoy. His fleshy mouth contorted in a cruel and bloody grin as Jon’s jaw hardened in tension and anger.

“I would have fucked her too!” He shouted and before anyone could blink the valyrian blade hit his neck.

Ramsay’s head rolled forward and Jon Snow kicked his body to the ground. The blood ran thick forming a puddle at Lady Stark’s feet.

Jon Snow picked Ramsay’s head by its mane of hair and showed it to the crowd. His face bared the splash of blood giving him a fearsome look.

“The North can be mercyful at times, but that doesn’t mean that treason will be rewarded!” Jon shouted to a loud crowd. “Justice will be served to those who betrayed our country in the Red Wedding. Roose Bolton and Walder Frey are the next ones. Word shall be sent to every fortress and every castle in the North demanding the lords to show their loyalty to Lady Stark and I. Roose’s head must be delivered to us!”

The crowd howled in approval as Lord Snow and Lady Stark stood side by side in a clever farce. Mercy and Punishment walking hand in hand to serve justice in the right measure. The gentle heart of a young woman that intercedes in favor of a feeble man’s life and dignity; in opposition to a very masculine and belic sense of justice that punishes treason with violent viril rage.  _ They are showing their unity. Two sides of the same coin. Pardon and Punishment. Diplomacy and War. _

Melissandre turned her back to the trial and walked back to her room and the comfort of her fire. She sat by the fireplace and looked at the flames carefully.  _ Dragons to the East. Lions to the South. Wolves in the North and a mighty shadow covering everything under the sun. _

She felt tired and wondered what would be of her once the wolves decided to go back to their denn? Would she be allowed to enter Winterfell or would she be casted out? Lady Stark had no love for Melissandre, but Lord Snow could still have use of her abilities.

Soon the night took over and the sounds of the castle lowered. There was some sort of tranquility floating in the air around her. A sensation of peace and security that sha hadn’t experienced in a long time.

An imperative knock at her door dragged Melissandre back to reality. She opened the door and Lord Snow entered the room with a sober face.

His clothes were still covered in blood as he carried a dirty sack in his hands.

“Congratulations on your victory, my lord.” Melissandre in polite condescendence. “Justice was served and mercy displayed.”

“There was no justice and no mercy in that farce. I only spared Theon because Arya asked me to do so. She is better in her role playing than I am, but at least the bastard is dead. Theon will that the black. It will give me some pleasure to think that he will be here when the Others come.” His voice was harsh, but there was some dark pleasure in his words.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my lord?” Melissandre asked cautiously as Jon walked toward the fire. 

“I have something for you.” He declared as he handled her the dirty sack. “I understand your god to be quite fond of blood sacrifices. Maybe the bastard’s bleeding heart can be used as a worthy sacrifice.”

“Wha...Why, my lord?” Melissandre asked out of shock. “I thought you abhorred the Lord of Light.”

“I’m not particularly fond of your god, but I’m not ungrateful either.” Jon Snow declared. “Your god brought me back to life and...Arya is safe. I can’t tell for sure it was your god’s work, but I can give him a token of gratitude nonetheless.”

“I’m truly surprised.” Melissandre bowed her head lightly. “May I ask if...my lord would have any requests to the Lord of Light?”

“Request?” Jon looked at her coldly. “Oh I have many requests to any god that might care to listen. I want this war to be swift and I want to get Arya into a safe place as soon as possible. I want Roose Bolton’s head rotting at Winterfell’s gates once we get there. I want the Freys to be extinct. I want Arya to give me a dozen children and live to see them grow into adulthood by my side. Can your god give me that much?”

Melissandre took the bastard’s heart into her hands and tossed it into the fire. The flames grew high with the offering, filling the gloomy room with blazing light.

“Maybe not all of your wishes...But at least some of them, my lord.” Melissandre answered as she looked inside the flames. “You can always make your offering more...potent.”

“How so?” Jon Snow asked carefully.

“A few drops of your own blood in the fire and you’ll have Winterfell waiting for you with its gates open and your beloved resting in the safety of the Lord’s Room. Does it seem generous enough for you?” Melissandre smiled at him while she observed Jon Snow taking of his glove and dagger.

He made a clean cut across his palm and let his blood drip inside the flames.

“Let us see if you are getting any better at this, my lady.” He said before wrapping his bloody hand in clean clothes.

Jon Snow turned his back at her and for the first time she felt as if she had finally won a battle of her own.   

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melissandre is back and as creepy as ever.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	37. Jon

Everything was ready for them to march. He took a good look at the troops before mounting his horse. The weather was as good as it could be and he took it as a good omen. Arya stood by his side wearing a heavy cloak and several layers of fur to keep her warm. He wouldn’t take risks with her health.

Val and Jeyne were placed in a cart along with some supplies. The wildling woman was still recovering from a wound on her leg and Jeyne took it upon her to heal the wildling.  _ War makes the most unusual friends. _

Alysanne Mormont and her men follow right behind him, along with Tormund. As for the Red Priestess...Jon allowed her to come along out of respect and a bit of superstition. He wasn’t particularly fond of her or her methods, but a man could be flexible when faced with his most intimate fears.

The road ahead them was a long one and for the first time in years Jon was going back South. There was a sense of wonderment and anxiety even if that meant another war to be fought.  _ At least this time we are heading home. Once we get Winterfell I’ll finally get some peace knowing Arya on her rightful place. _

Word had been sent to all the northern lords demanding their fealty and action. He wanted Roose Bolton to feel the walls of his room suffocating him. Maybe he could get an infiltrate group inside the castle and be done with him without a fighting.  _ I bet Arya would love a chance to use her potions. That’s out of question. She should be sent to Bear Island for safety, but she will never agree with me in this. _

“You seem distracted.” He heard her voice and the sound of it dragged him out of his endless thoughts once they were in the safety of their pavilion.

“Just thinking about strategies.” He sighed. “I wish there was a simple way out of it. I can barely wait to see you safe within Winterfell’s walls.”

“Oh I bet you would love to lock me inside a tower and never let me get anywhere near a blade again.” Arya pointed sarcastically.

“There’s nothing I would love more, but I know you all too well. You would find a way out of it and take your revenge on me in a blink of an eye. You would make a fool out of me and I would only have myself to blame.” She laughed at it and for a brief second he felt warm inside.

“I never thanked you for sparing Theon.” She pointed. “I thought...I thought you would feel ashamed or undermined in your authority somehow.”

“I have no authority here.” Jon pointed with a humorless laugh. “You are their lady. I’m your general or commander, but nothing more. Besides...It was a clever move. You almost convinced me of your merciful heart. It is comfortable for them to think of you as a gentle and benevolent lady.”

“While they think of you as my dark shadow.” She said with a smirk. “They fear you and our proximity is getting way to obvious.”

“Soon this will be over.” Jon answered calmly. “We will need a gathering with the lords. There’s much to be discussed and decided. Robb’s will for one. You are alive and the North is yours. I have no business with it.”

“What about the other titles? What about your claim?” Arya asked curiously, as if she wasn’t sure about what he was talking.

“I said the North is yours and we will enter this peculiar arrangement of ours as equals. When you announce your decision it will be the Queen in The North deciding on a political marriage. Your authority, your decision… None of them will be questioned.”

“The lords won’t like the idea of submitting to the Iron Throne again, nor to a Targaryen.” Arya pointed with accuracy. “This will be tricky.”

“You proved to be a warrior in battle and you proved to be reasonable during the trial. You are a queen they will be proud of. Someone they can trust. Besides...I was raised as a northerner and I fought for them.” Jon said as he held her face in his hands with tenderness. “We must reassure them that the Northern independency will be respected so they won’t have cause to rebel. As a Targaryen king I...I wouldn’t demand the northern submission.”

“This is likely to get tricky.” She said sadly. “What of the succession? How this said independency would be respected once we have children?”

_ Except we won’t have children. As long as I breathe...You will never conceive my child.  _ The thought was bitter and painful, but necessary if he wanted to keep Arya safe. There were other ways of naming a successor.

“We will think of it at the appropriate time. For now...I just want to make sure you’ll be named queen and our marriage to be celebrated in public.” Jon said fervently. “I won’t have anyone question the legality of this union. I won’t have anyone calling you names behind your back and I’m surely not dishonoring you by keeping you as my mistress when you deserve so much more.”

“I wouldn’t mind being your mistress. I never thought any less of you because of the conditions of our affair, but I understand what you are saying. You don’t want them to question my morality or capacity of ruling.” Arya sighed as she caressed his face tenderly. “I wish things were simpler.”

“Me too, but I’m confident that we will make it.” Jon reassured her as he took Arya in his arms.

“What do you miss the most?” She asked shyly against his chest. “About home, I mean.”

“I am home.” He said honestly. “You are my home. The only true home I’ll ever have. About Winterfell...I miss the godswood and the smell of the pine needles. I miss the noise in the courtyard and the glass garden. I miss the great hall and the taste of good ale for a change. What about you? What do you miss the most?”

“Everything you said. I also miss father, mother, Bran, Rickon and even Sansa.” Arya said with melancholy and Jon realized with surprise that she was crying.

He held her tightly and kissed her forehead. It was useless to say anything about that moment. He felt just the same as they rode back to Winterfell. In many ways they were finally allowing themselves to grieve and mourn their loved ones and the innocence they had lost during those years.

Jon wanted to make her a thousand different promises. He wanted her to believe that he could make her happy again and they could be family to each other as it has always been. Once more the idea of Arya carrying his child tormented him, for he wanted nothing more than to build a happy family with her, but that was a part of his bastard dream he would have to give up.

_ I doesn’t mean she won’t be happy. I doesn’t mean we won’t be happy together. Gods of my mother, gods of my father, Lord of Light...To any god that might care about my pray...Don’t let me live to mourn Arya again. I’ll do whatever is necessary to fulfill my purpose in this madness, but don’t take Arya away from me. You owe me this one little girl. _

“You should get some sleep.” Jon finally said.

“As long as you get some sleep too.” She said while taking her place on the improvised bed they shared.

Jon laid by her side and covered her with his cloak, making sure she would be warm. He held her closely to his body and buried his nose in the curve of her neck. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep and even though things were about to get even more complicated he felt peace.   

__

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much development here, but I needed Jon to be human again. I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	38. The She-Bear

Even though they were marching south, the weather was growing harsher. The wind was cruel and they had to make way through snow that reached their knees. Tormund and his free folk seemed quite at ease with it, while a good part of the army struggled to keep the pace.

It had been a good moment to test Lady Arya’s disposition to endure such difficult circumstances. Whatever the lower soldiers ate she would eat too. She made no distinction between soldiers and noblemen, which owned her respect among all ranks. She reminded Alys of King Rob and even Ned Stark at times.  _ She someone they can respect. A true daughter of Winterfell. Ned’s little girl. _

If Arya Stark was a respectable lady and eventual Queen in The North, her brother had earned the alias of Black Bastard and White Wolf.

Jon Snow was feared and respected for his abilities in the field of battle. He was a competent commander and warrior. She even had to admit that in the occasion of Lady Arya being crowned Queen in The North, the lords were likely to suggest Jon Snow to take up the title of Warden of The North. That would make them more at ease with the idea of a woman ruling and lower the risk of eventual rebellions.

She marched once more by her sisters’ sides and that felt like a blessing in many ways. Tomurnd wouldn’t risk approaching her whenever Jorelle or Lyra were near and during those long days she took the time to actually mourn the death of her sister Dacey.

As they marched their numbers dropped due to the harsh weather and disease. The wolves would eat the dead bodies even if the lords didn’t like it.  _ Better eaten by wolves than turned into whites. _ That had been Tormund and Lord Snow’s argument and as far as she knew it was a good one.

As they crossed the mountains they managed to gather support of the clans, especially clan Flynt.

“Old Ned Stark was a good man.” Their chieftain said. “He never forgot us and now we have the honor to follow his daughter. The one that has been named after a daughter of our own clan.”

That had been a crucial moment and Alys was delighted to see Lady Arya being recognized by those stubborn and proud creatures.  _ Wherever Lady Arya Flynt is, we are thankful for your blessing. _

Even with what remained of the mountain clans, their numbers weren’t that great as long as Ramsay had White Harbor and a bunch of other Northern Houses on his side. She could only hope that Lord Snow’s knowledge of the grounds and the castle would be enough to take it.

They were only a day from reaching Winterfell and the weather became unforgiving. Camp was prepared and everyone was trying to forget they might die at sunrise. Alysanne got out of her tent and walked toward the borders of the camp with ale to keep her company. She had a feel sips of it on her own before Tormund approached her with his boisterous smile.

“It’s quite sad to drink on your own.” He pointed. Alys handed him the flask so he could have a sip of it.

“Help yourself.” She said sourly. “You shouldn’t be here, by the way.” At that Tormund laughed.

“Will you ever change your speech? It’s getting predictable.” He said joyously before pulling her to a hungry kiss.

Alys didn’t bother to stop him. It was cold and she could do with some human warmth on the eve of a battle. She correspond his kiss with fire. When the kiss was broken Alys admired his flushed cheeks and idiotic grin.  _ I’m quite fond of this fool, am I not? What a stupid thing to do. _

“You know it’s pretty useless to pretend we are not sleeping together tonight, don’t you? I mean...I guess your sisters even like me.” He said as he kissed her neck and his wild beard tickled her. “We could keep the tradition alive.”

“What tradition?” She asked while trying hard not to giggle.

“Making a baby every time we get to see each other. It is a good tradition.” Tormund licked her earlobe sensuously.

“Not this time, you old fool.” Alys answered sharply. “I already have two of your kids waiting for me back home and I’m fine with the number.”

“Just a good old fuck then. I can’t stop thinking of you since the bastard’s beheading.” Tormund insisted.

Eventually Alysane went to his tent and the feeling of his callous hands fondling her breasts felt just like a blessing as he bit her shoulder.

Tormund simply knew his way around her. Every touch, every bite and every lick felt just right whenever they were together. They should have been enemies and lovemaking should feel dirty and violent, but whenever they were together there was laughing, screams, moans and dirty jokes.

He held her by her large tights as Alys wrapped her legs around him. One swift movement and Tormund was engulfed by her. They had yet to discover the benefits of a bed whenever they had the time to find pleasure in each other, but Alys guessed it was the wildling way of doing things.

They were savages together and at least when she was with him there was this utter sensation of quietness in her head. There was no war, no duties, no loyalties… It was just them and the freezing North.

Alys tried to prevent him from finishing inside her but her pleasure came too suddenly. Tormund took the chance to fill her with his seed once more and the only thing Alysanne could think about was the possibility of having another child by him.

When the sun was about to rise in the horizon Alys got dressed for battle and Tormund mimicked her preparation with solemn silence. If that night had been their last one, at least they wouldn’t spoil it with unnecessary sentimentalism.

The army marched once more and at this point they could see the grey walls of Winterfell waiting for them.

Alysane stood by Lady Arya’s side as they looked carefully to the walls. There was no sign of archers, or preparations for a siege. The castle seemed to be dead and unusually quiet. Bolton’s banners had been torn and burned at the gates.

“What in the seven hells happened here?” Lady Stark asked.

“It seems the castle was attacked and no one survived.” Alysanne said out of shock.

The gates of Winterfell were suddenly opened and a group of men on horse came out carrying the Merman banner.  _ Lord Manderly! _

“Lord Manderly sent us to great all of you.” The knight said proudly, but Lord Snow looked at the man as if wondering where he should hit him first. 

“Are you here to give us battle or offer Lord Bolton’s terms to surrender?” Lord Snow asked bluntly.

“Neither, my lord.” He answered breathlessly. “I’m here for no other reason than to surrender the castle to its rightful mistress and welcome all of you to Winterfell once more.”

“This is the most fortunate event, but I would be a fool to ignore that you might have a trap prepared for us.” Lady Arya replied.

“There’s no trap, my lady. Winterfell is yours. The North is yours.” The knight insisted. “Roose Bolton and his wife are dead.”

“How so?” Jon questioned immediately.

“His wife perished in childbirth along with the child.” He said soberly. “As for Roose Bolton...A traitor’s death is what he deserved.” The knight pulled a dirty sack to his lap and from there he took a bloody head.

The eyes had been removed along with the tongue. For a moment Alysanne felt like throwing up. The Poole girl covered her eyes in shock while Lady Arya’s face seemed undisturbed by the sight of it.

“How can we know this is truly Roose Bolton’s face?” Jon questioned, but before the knight could say anything Lady Arya rose her gloved hand.

“It is Roose Bolton.” Lady Stark declared with unquestionable authority. “I suppose this means House Bolton is dead for good. I would like to talk to Lord Wyman Manderly very much, sor. I’m curious about how he managed to deliver us such a clean victory.”

“Oh my lady...There was nothing clean about it.” The man said.

“I’ll have a party sent to the castle to verify your story. If our men don’t come back by nightfall I’ll name all of you traitors and there will be battle.” Lord Snow said in a deadly tone.

Their army stood there waiting for the party to return with the confirmation of the said death of Roose Bolton and the safety of Winterfell. They arrived before nightfall as promised and confirmed that Lord Manderly had taken the castle. Roose’s men had been executed while some noblemen had been held prisoners.

In all of her life Alysanne had never imagined something like that to be possible, and yet she was by Lady Arya’s side as she walked through the gates of her home. Something felt terribly wrong as if some sort of dark force had worked its way in the castle. Roose’s life had been the price to be paid for all his treasons, but it didn’t make things believable.

Even if she thought something was wrong, Alys also took the moment to admire as Lady Arya kneeled in the courtyard covered in snow and kissed the ground before turning her attentions to Lord Snow and hugging him tightly in a private and intimate celebration of that moment.

Alys wiped away a stubborn tear and allowed herself to be happy for those siblings who had finally made it back home.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like Jon wanted, Roose's head was delivered to him and the war was a swift one. Arya is finally in a safe place and what other desires he will have the Lord of Light grating him? At what price?  
> I hope you'll like this chapter and reviews are highly appreciated.  
> P.S: My crack-ship finally sailed in this fic. XD


	39. Jeyne

Theon had kissed her goodbye the day they had left Castle Black. A part of her had wanted for him to come along to Winterfell, but Lord Snow had been clear about his intentions. Theon was to suffer yet another punishment and a life at the Night’s Watch was the best option he would get.

“Don’t cry for me, Jeyne.” He asked her with a feeble smile. He was wearing black and had been allowed to carry a sword with him once he said his vows. “This is everything I could ask for and Lady Stark’s mercy allowed me to get a bit of my dignity back. I may yet survive winter, but if I die...I’ll die as Theon Greyjoy, a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, not Reek. I’ll die defending the North and...The only family I ever had.”

She cried nonetheless and Theon hugged her tightly as he asked her to be brave. He also asked her to find herself a decent man to marry and build a family with, someone who treated her as a true lady.

“Be happy, Jeyne. In anyway you find suitable, just...Be happy.” He insisted. “One day...If you have a son, name him Theon and love him well.”

“I don’t want to marry anyone. I just...I just want you to take care of yourself.” She demanded. “Promise that you’ll survive winter.”

“I will do my best.” He kissed her forehead and she got in the cart along with Val, who was still recovering from battle wounds.

The wildling said nothing about all of her crying during the journey back to Winterfell. If she thought Jeyne to be an annoying company, the wildling princess never said a thing. She held Jeyne’s hand though and for that she was grateful.

“Stop crying, girl.” Val eventually said. “It wasn’t the Stark girl who saved him. It was you and you good heart. Winter won’t be easy, but you gave that man the priceless gift of dignity. You set him free and this isn’t something ordinary.”

Hearing that from a warrior allowed Jeyne to be proud of herself. Not everyone could be a knight or a hero worthy of songs, but heroic actions could happen anywhere after all.  _ Nobody will sing songs about Jeyne Poole, but I saved a man’s life and I helped my lady to get her home back. I am my own hero. I am important too. _

The day they reached Winterfell’s gates brought back terrible memories. She thought about her father and all of her family. She also remembered how much Ramsay had hurt her within those walls. For a while they thought there would be battle, but when the knights came to bring Lord Snow the head of Roose Bolton, Jeyne couldn’t help hugging Val in relief.

The wildling princess laughed at her reaction, but eventually hugged her back.  _ This must be a dream. _

They entered the castle and Jeyne saw her lady kissing the ground in the courtyard. Lady Arya was dressed all in black and in her breastplate covered in leather there was a white wolf Jeyne had embroidered to match Lord Snow’s.

Arya Stark looked like a true winter queen standing on the courtyard with snow falling over her and creating a beautiful white crown on top of her head. Lord Snow stood by her side. He looked frightening and ferocious as ever, but even he had softened a bit at the sight of his familial home.

The Stark banners once more could be seen at the walls and there was a modest meal to celebrate the occasion in the great hall, where Lady Stark and Lord Snow talked to Lord Manderly about the execution of his plan to take back Winterfell.

There was music that night and a lot of drinking. Jeyne sneaked a skin full with dornish wine and took it to Val. The wildling princess didn’t like the taste of it, but after a while neither of them could taste a thing.

Jeyne looked at the high table and saw her lady sitting by Lord Snow’s side. They were both laughing and talking about simple things as if their tragedies had never happened. Lord Snow didn’t look so scary and he was even singing from time to time.

It was Lord Snow the one who called for a toast to The Queen in The North, openly declaring his support to his sister’s claim. He was followed by the others, but Jeyne knew better. Many wouldn’t like the idea of Lady Arya ruling and Jon Snow was the immediate candidate to the title, even if he was a bastard.

There would be time for talking about politics and succession later. Jeyne was aware that the maester had already sent ravens to invite all the lords to a gathering at Winterfell. They would have to swear their loyalty to Lady Stark and then the urgent matters would be decided.

She helped Val to her bed once the feast was over. They would keep sharing the room at least until the wildling was recovered. Jeyne took her own side of the bed and thought about the life she had before and the one she had yet to build.

“Is it always like this?” Val asked randomly and Jeyne thought it to be a side effect of the wine.

“What?” Jeyne replied out of confusion.

“A castle.” Val completed her thought. “Is it always so big and crowded? It feels like a huge village within walls. It’s hot too. So hot that I’m sweating under my clothes.”

“I guess so. Winterfell is a mighty castle though. The Red Keep is huge too. It’s prettier there. The walls are made of red stone and there are gardens with flowers of all kinds. The smell is terrible there, but it’s still a beautiful sight.” Jeyne said in a dreamy tone as she observed Val’s face. She looked a bit like a child hearing to a tale of knighthood.

“I’ve never thought I would sleep in a castle one day. It gives you a sense of security.” Val pointed.

“That’s the point of it. Castles are built for security, but I haven’t been safe here for a long time.” Jeyne said sadly.

“You are safe now. You should sleep.” Val said with a broad smile on her face. It didn’t take long for her to doze off.

When Jeyne finally slept she dreamed of dragons flying on a bright blue sky. She was in a godswood and the heart tree would look at her with its red eyes. It called her name in a whisper until another voice called her too. Jeyne turned to see who was there.

Lady Arya appeared with her wolf by her side. She had flowers in her hand. Five winter roses tightly pressed against her palm. The flowers were magnificent although the thorns had pricked Lady Arya’s hand and there was blood all around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated XD


	40. Chapter 40

She heard Lord Manderly's version of how Winterfell had been taken from Roose Bolton and how he had made pies of the Freys that had been hosted at White Harbor. Roose Bolton had been killed shortly after Ramsay left with the largest part of the army, expecting for a swift and certain victory.

Roose didn’t have enough men to secure both Winterfell and the Dreadfort. Once Fat Walda died in childbirth some of the Frey’s left the North and it was when the northern lords hosted at Winterfell decided to do something about his treachery.

His guards had been dosed with sweetsleep mixed in ale and killed in their sleep. Marderley had Barbrey Dustin imprisoned in the dead of night along with a few supporters of Bolton’s claim to the North, but Roose had been dragged to the courtyard and beheaded at the sunrise.

Lord Manderly also informed her about Bran and Rickon’s escape. He had sent Sor Davos to Skagos in order to find and take Rickon back to Winterfell, but he also agreed that at that moment it was in his better interests to support her claim.  _ “My lady is older and also a capable leader. A regency during winter would hardly be a wise decision at this point. We need unity and strong leadership to survive the dark nights that will follow.” _ Those had been his words, but Arya wasn’t sure if she could trust his good intentions.

It would be up to Arya to decide what to do with the prisoners, but she would rather wait until the gathering to give her sentence. There were more urgent matters to be sorted and none of them easy to present to her banners.

There was much and more to be done before all the northern lords gathered under her roof. Reports on food storage, preparations for the winter and reinforcements in security and damaged buildings to be made. Jon had some experience with all of that and was more than happy to offer his help in any way he could, but those were the Lady’s responsibilities.

He had commissioned a crown for her, insisting that as the Queen in The North she should have one. Arya thought it to be unnecessary and a waist of good iron and copper, but said nothing about it. Instead she had a crown made for Jon as well. If he was to be her consort and a King in his own right, she would make sure that Jon would be recognized as such.

Howland Reed had been serving as her advisor in which concerned the matter of Jon’s true identity. There was no easy way of telling the lords of her plans, but all of them could be reasoned with. Manderley would demand repayment to his loyalty and maybe even suggest a suitor to Arya’s hand.  _ If Rickon is returned to us, maybe I can give him to one of Manderly's grandaughters. The old man won’t like it a single bit, but at least I have the marriage contract to prove that I was never available. _

Jeyne helped her to get dressed for the gathering. Woolen stocking, linen shift and a heavy gown made of dark grey velvet embroidered with silver wolves along the neckline, with a cloak with white bear skin. Jeyne also made sure her hair would be combed and half braided. When the looking glass was brought to her, Arya looked at her own image reflected and realized how far she got from that skinny rat that roamed the dark alleys of Braavos.

That was just another face she wore, another role she played. Arya Underfoot, Arya Horseface, Ary, Weasel, Cat, Mercy...All those names were behind her. Now she was about to become Queen In The North. She was her house’s only hope and future.

She heard someone knocking at her door with evident anxiety. Jeyne opened it and soon Jon stormed his way into the Lord’s Chamber.

His clothes were black, except for the white wolf in his tunic. Arya noticed he had taken the time to dress as a nobleman for a change. A true prince and warrior.

Jeyne asked for permission to joining the guests at the great hall and Arya dismissed her at once.

“It’s time.” He declared without paying much attention to her unusual choice of garments.

“I’m ready.” Arya turned to face him and it was when Jon took the time to look at her. He seemed...Impressed. “What do you think?” She asked as she turned around so he could evaluate her better. “Is it a suitable gown for a gathering? Do I look like a proper lady?”

“I…” He didn’t seem capable of completing a sentence. “You don’t...You don’t look like a lady. You look like proper queen. I think...I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“It doesn’t feel right.” Arya sighted. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. In a way...I think I look like my mother.”

“No. Lady Catelyn was all too southern looking.” Jon said with conviction. “You look northerner. You look like their daughters, sisters, mothers...And you look splendid. A true Queen of Winter.”

Arya caressed his face and kissed his lips in gratitude. They were safe. They were home. Nothing could touch them, or at least that was what she wanted to believe.

“You look dashing.” She said breathlessly as she realized that Jon had been crafted by the gods to match each and every one of her preferences. “Mighty as a wolf and a dragon should be.”

“My only concern is to look like a worthy suitor to the hand of the Queen In The North.” Jon grinned at her like a fool. “I wish I could take the opportunity and perform this wedding already. I want to visit your chambers tonight and pleasure you with my mouth. I want all those lords to hear you moaning, begging and saying my name like a prayer.” 

“We have to survive this day first.” She said it before kissing his hands. “I’m your prize to be conquered in this gathering.”

“Then I shall prove myself to be a descendent of Aegon, The Conqueror.” Jon declared before kissing her forehead.

Jon offered her his arm to help Arya down the stairs. They walked into the Great Hall together with Ghost following them closely. All the guests and members of the household stood up to greet them properly. Arya took the central chair as her father used to do. Jon took the seat at her left side while Reed took the one on her right.

All the faces in the room looked at her with evident excitement and anxiety as they wondered what sort of ruler she would be.  _ Just a girl, they might think. I’m nothing but a girl. Someone to be married off, someone to be manipulated. A pretty thing to be hidden away or even the pleasant face hiding Jon’s dark deeds. They know nothing about me. They only know I am a Stark and that is my greatest triumph. _

“My lords and ladies, I welcome all of you to Winterfell.” Arya said once silence was made. Her voice failed at first, but as she looked at them a sense of belonging took her all of a sudden. She was her father’s daughter. She had the wolf blood in her and those...Those men were sheeps. “You have been summoned here to celebrate justice. Every northern house has suffered losses given to Bolton’s treason at the Red Wedding. Your King was murdered in cold blood while protected by the law of hospitality. Your sons, grandsons, brothers, fathers, sisters...My own mother...All of them murdered for the sake of Lannister’s ambition and the grudge of treacherous men.” Arya paused for a sip of wine. “Theon Greyjoy was allowed to take the black in exchange for his life. Ramsay Snow was judged, sentenced and executed according our law and tradition. Roose Bolton captured and beheaded. Alas there’s a true Stark in Winterfell!”

The room was taken by the ferocious sound of celebration. Spears hit the floor, blades hit the shields and those who had just their voices to rely on howled in approval. Ghost looked around as if he was amused by the noise.

“It’s time for us to organize the North again. Winter is upon us and there’s much to be done. We have enemies to the South, for Walder Frey and Cersei Lannister are very much alive. There’s also a great danger coming from the wild North and we must be prepared to defend ourselves against it.” Arya didn’t want to elaborate much on that, but it had been Jon’s demand. Something happened North of The Wall and he had seen things she didn’t understand. “First we must decide who should take the burden of ruling the North.”

Arya made sign for the maester to step forward and bring the document. Robb’s will had been witnessed to several lords while others had received copies of it. She opened the parchment and presented it to the crowd.

“Many of you have seen this text before.” Arya said. “King Robb has disowned my sister given to her marriage to Tyrion Lannister. There’s no legitimate son of Eddard Stark left to inherit the North.” Those words were knives, but she had to be practical. She had gone too far to not take the crown into her hands and claim it. “Therefore I am the Lady of Winterfell.”

“Not a Lady!” Alysanne shouted across the room. “THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH!”

Alysanne’s shout was followed by many for a long while and Arya was sure that Jon was taking notice of everyone whose voice remained silent.

“What of Lord Jon Snow?” Lord Talhart asked. “King Robb legitimized him and named him his heir.” It was Jon’s turn to speak up his mind.

“Winterfell and the North belong to Arya.” Jon answered the man soberly. “I’m her subject as much as you are, my lord. King Robb was generous to me and the gods know that I loved him well, but I can’t and I won’t usurp Queen Arya of her birthright. I’m not Lord Eddard’s legitimate son and although he was the only father I’ve ever known.”

There was an awkward silence in the room while the lords looked at each other. Jon raised from his seat and walked toward the center of the great hall. He knelt in front of her with his sword in hand. He rested the flat of the blade on his hands, offering the deadly thing to her in a sign of loyalty.

“To Winterfell and you I pledge my faith. My own blood and breath I yield up to you, my queen. My sword and spear and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and I shall never fail you.” Jon had chosen to adapt Reed’s traditional oath. I a way it sounded like his wedding vows to her. He was hers. She was his. For as long as they lived. “I swear it by earth and water. I swear it by bronze and iron. I swear it by ice and fire."

Jon’s display of loyalty followed by his renouncement to his claim to Winterfell a clear sign. There was only one Queen in The North. One ruler. Soon the lords understood that Arya wouldn’t be ignored and one by one they pledge their fealty to her.

She accepted it as it was expected, following the same protocol she had seen her father using about a hundred times. Once all was said and done, Arya took a deep breath as she summoned her courage to address the most important matter of all.

“We all know how Robert’s Rebellion started. We all know the tale of The Tournament of Harehall. Some of you were there when it happened. Ever since that day, Westeros has been plagued by war.” Arya said calmly. “Rhaegar Targaryen took Lyanna Stark to the Tower of Joy. My grandfather and uncle were killed once her return was demanded. My father declared war on the Iron Throne to bring her back home, but she died anyway. He brought back her bones to rest in the crypts along with her father and brother, but he also brought home something else.” Arya took a deep breath as she looked over the Targaryen sigil on the yellowed pages in her hands. “My father was well known for his honor and yet nobody questioned it when he arrived her with a baby in his arms. His natural son, he said. Something quite odd for an honorable man to do and absolutely incoherent to his character. This documents in my hands prove that my father was indeed an honorable man. A man who gave up his honor and his life to protect a secret that wasn’t his. To protect his sister’s only child! To protect Jon or as he was originally named...Aemon Targaryen, Rhaegar Targaryen’s legitimate son from certain death through Robert’s hands!”

As expected, there was a commotion among the lords.  Ghost immediately got defensive and protective of Jon and Arya. Jon was already by her side. His hand grasping the hilt of Longclaw.

“What sort of absurd is this?!” A Lord Ashwood asked outraged. “Is this the delirium of a woman’s mind?!”

“Careful now, my lord.” Arya warned. “You swarn me fealty and by law you owe me respect and loyalty. I won’t be insulted by you or anyone in this room. As for my delirium...You may look into these documents or...If you still find it hard to believe in ink, wax and yellowed parchments, you may inquire Lord Howland Reed, who witnessed the whole thing.”

“Is it true, Reed?” It was Alysanne who asked Howland in a shaken tone. Her face was pale like a bone.

Howland stood up in front of the crowd for the first time. He didn’t seem nervous, but there was a weight pulling his shoulders down. Suddenly he look smaller and older. He looked at his fellow men and old friends knowing all too well that his revelation would change for good the way many of them felt about him.

“All of you know I was at the Tower of Joy on that dreadful day. All of you know that Rhaegar marched to the Trident leaving behind not one, but three members of the King’s Guard. Arthur Dayne among them and yet...Nobody ever questioned why those men were there, protecting a young woman with no connection to the royal family, instead of protecting the Prince at the Trident, or the King at the King’s Landing.” Reed said soberly. “They weren’t there for Lyanna Stark, although Rhaegar indeed granted her the title of royal princess. They were there for the child. Rhaegar’s child by his second wife. A fucking polygamous wedding that only a Targaryen could possibly think of. There is a precedent for such a union and as for the child...I held him in my hands and heard it when Ned promised Lyanna that he would protect the boy. I’ve been carrying this secret with me for nearly twenty years. I pledged my loyalty to House Stark and I’ve sworn by Ice and Fire in front of you in several different occasions. Jon...I mean...Prince Aemon Targaryen’s safety has been my duty and once Ned died it was my responsibility to reveal his true identity.”

“What should that mean to us?” Alysanne insisted in outrage. “The Targaryens are gone. We have our own ruler. Why should we care about Rhaegar’s son?” Jon was obviously displeased at the sound of that question and yet he said nothing. Alysanne and Jon weren’t fond of each other, but Arya knew that at least in that matter Jon had little to say to defend his cause. He probably would have asked the same question if he were in her place.

“He is also Lyanna’s son. Raised as a northerner and a Stark. My father gave up his life and honor to protect Jon. I can’t and I won’t ignore his sacrifice.” Arya said firmly. “Everything you need to know at this moment, is that Jon doesn’t have a claim to Winterfell and as long as I live the North will be independent. Cersei Lannister is our mutual enemy and since I’ve promised the gods I would kill her myself we have common cause with the Targaryen heir. It’s implied that I’ll back up his claim to the Iron Throne when the time is right.”

“In the meanwhile we are supposed to mind our courtesies and treat His Highness with our smiles?” It was Umber the one who asked this time.

“In the meanwhile you’ll respect Jon as you respect me. He fought against Bolton. He helped be to claim back the North when many of you failed to come to our aid. He bleed defending our home and our country’s men. Therefore, in the battlefield he will carry my authority as Lord Protector of the North.” Arya said as she raised from her seat. “Once all the preparations have been made, you’ll also refer to him as Prince Consort.”

“What?” Lord Umber asked. There was another wave of commotion and this time Arya didn’t wait for the voices to be silenced. She slammed the hardwood table with her fist, demanding their attentions and she was immediately heard.

“I may be young, but I’m aware of my duties as queen and I’ll do what I must to fulfill them.” Arya answered in a firm tone as she felt Jon’s gaze on her. “I must marry at some point and produce an heir as soon as possible. The Queen’s Consort must be from royalty or at least noble birth. A foreigner suitor wouldn’t agree with our traditions and I’m not willing to invite a southern lord to my bed.  Jon is my cousin and we’ve been aware of this fact for a while now. His mother was a daughter of Winterfell just like Jon is. He has proven his valiance and commitment to House Stark. He just sworn me his fealty with all of you as witnesses. A true northerner that served this country well. A worthy match for The Queen in The North.”

“This would give back the North to a southern king!” Someone shouted in the crowd. “You haven’t been queen for an hour yet and you are already bending the knee to another!” At that Jon raised from his seat. A dark shadow had descent upon his face.

“As Lord Protector it’s my duty to remember you that you are in the presence of the Queen. To question the Queen’s authority and decision is treason. To mock her in public is treason. As far as I’m concerned, treason in the North is punished by death.” Jon’s voice was cold and sharp like his blade. “As Her Grace has already said the North will remain independent even if I claim the Iron Throne. My sole authority in the North will he over the army, not be cause of my claim to the Iron Throne, but because of Her Grace’s wish. The North will keep its traditions and costumes, but treason won’t be tolerated.”

“My decision has been made and my word if final.” Arya completed. “I shall appoint the member of my Small Council in the following days and I’ll hear the demands tomorrow. As for my wedding...It shall take place in seven days time. Meanwhile, all of you are my honorable guests.”

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The North has a new Queen and a Lord Protector! \o/  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	41. Jon

Arya pointed Howland Reed as Hand of the Queen and Lord Manderly as Master of Coins for obvious reasons. Loyalty had to be rewarded and that was a good start, although the lords were still uneasy near them.

Reed was a good man for the job and his reputation among the northerners was indeed something to be recognized and rewarded. Although he was more of a fighter than a politician, Reed didn’t lack in wit and speech. Slowly he was making the lords warm up to the idea of a Targaryen Prince as the Queen’s Consort.

The lords weren’t the only ones to be dealt with. Tormund had been trying to make the wildling accept that his marriage to Arya was and usual practice among the southerners. Even if there was some resistance among them, it was either an alliance with the Queen in The North or getting back North at the risk of being killed by the Others.

“They respect what you did for them. I won’t let anyone forget about it, but their loyalty must be rewarded at some point, Crow.” Tormund said with concern.

“I’m considering sending you back North to occupy the Gift. You’ll name your captains and I might even send Alys with you to teach your people our ways in the battlefield. What to expect from a southern army and how to explore their weakness.”

“She won’t like it a single bit, you know.” Tormund pointed with a hint of mockery. “But you won’t see me complaining about it.”

“Arya has sent word to Bear Island. Your children are on their way to Winterfell. Serena is to be fostered by the Queen. It’s a great honor in our culture. It means she will be groomed to command.” Jon said with sympathy.

“You better take good care of my daughter or I’ll cut off your prick.” Tormund’s tone was a sober one this time.

“We will take good care of her.” Jon answered with an honest smile.

The Dreadfort and Barrow Hall were to be given to other allies in due time. Second sons or even wildling chieftains if needed. The process of buying loyalties was tiresome and disgusting at times, but also vital if they were to win a war.

Arya had kept him away from her chambers since they arrived at Winterfell. She had good reason to do that, but it didn’t mean Jon was happy about it in the slightest. Those two months had been a torture. He wanted her back in his bed and he wanted all those lords to understand that Arya was never available for the taking.

Jon often observed that Arya had a natural talent to perform her duties as queen. Even if she hated every minute of it, she stood in the Great Hall listening to the complains and demands of others. Her mind was quick to give answers and conciliate the conflicting interests. If he were to be honest, Arya had never needed him to get Winterfell back. She was more than capable to assemble an army and march South if she decided so. Even if the lords didn’t like him as her suitor, Jon realized how easily she melted their resistances with her cleverness.

The day of their wedding finally arrived. It had snowed during the previous night and the godswood was covered with fresh white snow. A septon had been summoned to Winterfell to perform the ceremony according to the Faith of The Seven after the traditional northern rit was concluded.

Jon never thought himself to be a vain man, but it was his wedding day and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to pay his clothes a bit of attention. Black was still his color of choice, but Arya had sent him new shirts, tunics, woolen breeches and cloaks made of fine materials to suit his status in her court.

His cloak for the wedding was black, with the white wolf he had picked for his sigil combined with the dragon of House Targaryen. He remembered that almost a lifetime ago he had mocked Jeoffrey for making his mother’s house equal to the king’s in his banners. Arya had been the one to crush his juvenile notions with a simple statement.  _ The woman is important too _ .

He touched it with reverence and wondered if his mother would be proud of his actions. Reed often said that Arya looked much like Lyanna both in looks and temper, but still...Jon couldn’t help thinking about the life he could have had.

He pulled his hair back and placed the crown Arya had given him. A simple circle made of iron and bronze with ancient runes carved matching the Queen’s crown.

Once he was ready Jon went straight to the godswood without paying much attention to anyone around him. Most of the guests were already there waiting for the ceremony to start.

Jon looked at the heart tree and remembered with fondness how Ned used to sit there for hours to hon Ice.  _ Are you looking at me now, father? Do you hate me for what I’m about to do? Do you hate me for taking your precious little girl for my wife? _ Those thoughts were heartbreaking, but no one would ever know of his guilt. He was a Targaryen after all and nobody has ever asked a Targaryen what they felt whenever they wedded their sisters.

_ Jon...Jon... _ He heard his name in the wind. It almost sounded like a familiar voice.  _ Jon...Jon... _ The wind would keep calling him as if trying to prevent what was about to happen, or as if accusing him somehow.

_ With or without your blessing, I’ll have her. Gods of my mother...Gods of my father...All I ever asked was for her safe return to me. You’ve created us both as one soul divided in two different bodies. I can never be whole without Arya. This is your fault, not mine. You’ve made us this way and I won’t be judged by it. I won’t feel shame for loving her as I do. _

Jon turned to face the guests and his bride once the sun faded away. Reed was responsible to give her in marriage in the absence of another member of her family.

Arya’s gown was outstanding in its simplicity. Long sleeves and a heavy skirt made of fine lamb-wool in a natural creamy tone. Nothing in its shape or fabric would have suggested that she was The Queen in The North and yet it was in its simplicity that her regal figure was highlighted.

She looked modest as it was proper for a young bride. The only piece of jewelry adorning her were several strings of  pearl loosely falling over her bodice and a headband also made of pearls; all of them gifts from Lord Manderly. Her hair was combed in a way Jon remember Lady Catelyn wearing on a feast; half loose and falling over her back.

Jon realized he had been holding his breath until he felt Arya’s hand in his. He was so happy at that moment that he started to doubt which tragedy would follow such a dangerous feeling. He wasn’t familiar to happiness, but Arya had been the one he took as his bride and making him smile was her natural talent.

The septon stood between them once Arya’s maiden cloak had been carefully removed by Reed. Jon unclasped his own cloak to place it around her shoulders before claiming her mouth in a kiss that was all but chaste.

“With this kiss I pledge my love” They both said it together.

“...And take you for my lord and husband” Arya said in an unusually demure tone.

“....And take you for my queen and wife” Jon answered with a hint of pride.

“You are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The septon said dutifully.  _ As if it had ever been any different.  _ Jon thought bitterly before kissing his bride again.

The feast that followed was far from being worthy of a Queen’s wedding, but they had agreed that it wouldn’t be prudent to throw a lavish party with winter upon them.

There was song and plenty of ale and wine to keep the guests entertained. He was ridiculously happy as he observed Arya eat from his plate and drink from his cup.

Jeyne approached them when the bedding was about to happen. She whispered something in Arya’s ears and for some reason his bride seemed confuse.

“What is it?” Jon asked immediately.

“Two knights arrived. One of them asked for me.” She said. “It’s probably nothing, but I must talk to them.”

“I don’t see why you should.” Jon insisted. “It’s time for us to retire to our chambers.”

“It’s ill luck to refuse a knight hospitality on your wedding day. I already sent them food and wine, but we must listen to them.” Arya insisted.

They went to the courtyard where the knights were waiting for them all wrapped in black cloaks and probably freezing to their bons. One of them was an old man and even if he was tall and lean his days as a knight were surely coming to an end.

The other one was about Jon’s age. A tall and muscular man carrying a smith’s hammer and looked more like a squire than a proper knight.

“Goodnight, sors.” Arya greet them. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

The old man removed his hood before taking a good look at her. He bowed elegantly to greet the queen as a nobleman would.

“I heard my niece’s daughter had won Winterfell back. I came as fast as my old bones allowed, but I didn’t expect to arrive in time for a wedding.” The old man said. “You took after your lord father, but I can see a bit of Cat in the shape of your eyes and cheekbones. Sor Brynden Tully, Your Grace.” He bowed again. “At your service.”

“The Blackfish?” Arya questioned out of surprise. “I’m delighted to meet you, sor. I had...I had no idea you were still alive.”

“We have that in common. I was with your mother for a while during King Robb’s campaign. She was desolated with grief back then. Dear Cat...She would be proud of you for taking back your home and claiming your brother’s crown.”

“To what do we own the pleasure of your visit, sor?” Jon finally asked.

“I suppose there will be time to talk about politics and war later. I won’t keep you away from the celebration.” Blackfish answered calmly.

“Indeed. You are welcome to join us at the Great Hall.” Arya insisted. Blackfish smiled politely.

“I’m not really fond of weddings these days, but you may go and enjoy yourself, boy.” He said it to the other man.

He also took away his hood and for a second Jon could swear it was shock what he saw in his eyes. The second knight pretty much ignored Jon’s presence as he looked straight to Arya as if he was seeing the Maid personified.

“Gendry?” She asked cautiously. “Is it you?”

For a while he didn’t say a thing. He simply nod in agreement before he could find his voice again. _ What in the seven hells is going on? _

“Aye, Your Grace.” He said as if those words costed the very breath on his lungs. “You look pretty...Like the first snow.”

Jon looked at Arya’s face as if waiting for her to reproach the man’s audacity but what he saw was her pale face and a hint of rage and deception burning deep within her eyes. Her eyes hurt him more than the knives of his black brothers ever could.

It broke Jon’s heart to realize that at some point Arya had loved another man.

“Thank you, sor.” Arya answered with evident embarrassment. “As I said...You are welcome to join us at the Great Hall.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I would rather stay here with Sor Brynden.” The man answered with evident discomfort.

Jon couldn’t help his insecurity nor his need to reassure his status as her husband. He took Arya’s hand carefully and placed it around his arms to escort her back to the castle.

“I think it’s time for us to retire. I’ll have a servant taking care of their horses and providing them accommodations inside.” Jon said it in an intimate tone. “There will be time for talking tomorrow.”

Arya didn’t answer him properly but bid the guests goodnight. She allowed Jon to conduct her upstairs where the Lord’s Chamber had been prepared for them.

The fireplace kept the room warm and there was mulled wine sweetened with honey and spices feeling the air with it’s delicious smell. Jon locked the door while Arya poured herself a cup of wine and had a sip of it.

“Who is that man?” Jon asked as he removed his belt, tunic and shirt. Arya was quiet for a second as if considering her words.

“A bastard boy from Flea Bottom.” She answered as a matter of fact. “Just a blacksmith’s apprentice.”

“He seems...Intimate in the way he talks to you.” Jon stated it without leaving doubts about his discontentment. “Why is that?”

Arya finally turned to face him. The pearl strings in her bodice clashing against each other making a funny noise as she moved.

“We travelled together with Yoren while I was trying to reach the Wall. He was my friend.” Arya said nervously.

“Should I presume he isn’t your friend anymore?” Jon asked as he took the cup off her hands to drink from it.

“I told him Robb would find him a position once we arrived at Riverrun.” Arya said bitterly. “He chose to be a knight instead. Why are we talking about him anyway? He is just a stupid boy with a stupid helmet.”

“A stupid boy that seems to have a strange influence over my wife’s behavior.” Jon concluded bitterly. “He turned his back at you and that you couldn’t forgive, could you? He is a bastard and knighthood would be the only way for him to ever hope to get anywhere near a lady like you. At least he arrived here in time for the bedding.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Arya rolled her eyes. Absurd or not Jon couldn’t help the nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He held her face within his hands and kissed her with anger.

“I bloody well hope he will listen to your moans when I take you.” Jon answered as his hands unlaced her wedding gown. “Your uncle too...It feels good to think that Catelyn’s old uncle will witness the day I wedded one of her beloved daughters.”

The gown fell from her shoulders and the sound of pearls hitting the ground filled the air. The sound was similar to that of something breaking.

“Even better to think that our wedding will be consummated on her old bed.” Arya tried to get some space between them, but Jon took her in his arms in a swift movement and carried to bed.

“You are being ridiculous!” Arya said angrily as she tried to kick him.

“Ridiculous?” He asked as he grabbed her by her ankles before she could hurt him. Jon kept her legs parted as he climbed to bed and positioned his body between her legs. “Not long ago I was a bastard too. Too fucking lowborn to ever think about the possibility of marrying a decent woman, let alone a queen. Your mother was pretty efficient at hammering in my mind I would never have a home of my own and the Night’s Watch was the only place for me. Forgive me if I find this moment to be poetic.”

Arya tried to slap his face, but Jon grabbed her by the wrists and pinned them to bed before kissing her lips.

He had never felt so angry or so helpless before. It was indeed ridiculous that the thought she might have found another man to love had never crossed his mind until that moment. Jon was suddenly aware of Arya’s beauty, charming nature and how those things were meant to driven a good man mad.

His father triggered a war because of a woman like Arya and Jon realized with fear that he had more of Rhaegar than he would like to admit.  

“What in the seven hells you think you are doing?!” Arya shouted at him. “I am your wife! I’ve been your wife for months now! I killed for you! I’ll declare war for you and you are acting like a madman!”

“Did you love him?” Jon asked out of anger.

“Would it make any difference at this point?” Arya questioned with her brave face. Even if she was helpless under the weight of his body, she would never give in without a fight. “Nothing ever happened. He went away while I traveled half the world to get back to you. Gendry is nothing!”

“And yet you looked at him as if you have seen a ghost.” Jon declared in a broken tone.

Something inside him seemed to have shattered. She never bothered to deny her feelings for that man. He felt hopeless and lost in his fears even when he had Arya’s naked body under his. It wasn’t just a pregnancy what he should fear. Arya could vanish like smoke if so she wanted. She could take a lover or a dozen as far as he knew.  _ I must be getting mad. _

Jon let go of her wrist. He felt Arya’s hand on his face. Her thumb wiping away his tears.

“Why are you acting like this?” Her voice was suddenly calmer as she sat on the mattress so they would stay at the same level. “I’m here, Jon. Nothing will ever stand between us.”

“I guess…” His voice was still a broken one. “I despair at the thought of losing you, but until this moment...I actually never thought that losing you to another was a possibility. I think I grew with a sense of entitlement...Your love was mine alone and now...I’m not so sure anymore.”

Arya kissed him in answer as if she wanted to prove at any cost that his fears were indeed absurd. Her swift fingers untied the knots of his trousers and Arya removed what remained of his clothes.

He often felt insecurity in the way she touched him or kissed him in the dead of the night. Jon usually thought it to be the memories of their shared past and the word “brother” to be responsible for that. This time she was making a tremendous effort to touch and kiss him as if she really craved for him and her caresses felt like a beautiful lie.

“You are mine and I am yours.” She whispered close to his ear. “I have always been yours.”

Jon pulled her by her waist and kissed her with hunger. He pulled her hair with his free hand deepening the kiss and making it even more savage as he felt her body pressed against his throbbing erection.

He knew it all too well that Arya have learned how to manipulate his desires. Whenever he got either too violent or suddenly weak she would whisper those sweet words and take his cock in her hands. Just like that she would finish any discussion and Jon would never bother to return to the topic later. That time was no different.

Arya scratched his shoulders as he took her left nipple into his mouth and suck it hard. Arya let a long and deep moan escape her mouth as he did it. Her breasts were small and peaky against his callous hands, but they never failed to mesmerize him with their sensitivity.

Their first night had been an awkward event, although the connection between them was too powerful to be ignored. Time and practice had given them the chance to adjust to each other. Arya enjoyed it when he sucked at her nipples before giving her what Ygritte called the lord’s kiss.

Arya laid in bed with her leg resting on his shoulders as he tasted her sweet cunt. She pulled his hair and the furs of their bed as she got closer to her pleasure. Her eyes shut as her mouth made the most obscene noises.

Once more he got on top of her and slowly guided his cock into her wet folds. Arya pulled his head for a fervorous kiss once he was buried inside of her. Her legs wrapped around his hips as she moved in sync with him.

Even if Lady Catelyn’s name had been just his way of hurting Arya during their argument, Jon couldn’t help feeling mighty as he made old Cat’s girl call his name in a feverish moan.  _ I hope you are watching it from the seven hells, Lady Stark. Your precious girl married to the bastard that you hated...Screaming the bastard’s name for all the castle to hear. _

The thought made him move faster and deeper inside her until Arya’s short vocal screams became louder.

“Give...Me...An heir.” She said in a breathless tone.

He had been to close at that point and before he could get out of her Arya’s legs kept him in place. He finished inside her in a violent orgasm.

As he softened inside her Jon was taken by another wave of panic. He had been avoiding to spill his seed inside her so she wouldn’t get with child until he was certain of her safety. 

Arya kissed his face and lips tenderly and oblivious to the danger of her request. The thought of her carrying his child felt like a poisoned dream. There was nothing he desired more than to hold their first born in his hands and yet... _ That is a feeling I’ll never know. _

Jon laid his head between her breasts just to hear her heart beating. He felt tired and yet restless.  _ Keeping her for myself is a battle that I seem to be losing. _

“Maybe we should wait.” He said carefully. “It’s probably too soon for us to think about an heir.”

“What?” Arya questioned in confusion. “I am Queen now. I must think about an heir just as much as I think about war. I thought...I thought you wanted children.”

“I do...The gods know that I want it more than anything, but…” He rolled to his side of bed and looked up to the roof for a second. “Reed loves to remind me how much you look like my mother. I can’t help thinking about what happened to her and fear for your safety.”

There was silence for a second and tension filled the air like a miasma.

“I’ll die, Jon.” Arya said soberly and he felt his blood freezing in his veins. “I’ll die just like any other living creature and when my time comes there will be nothing you can do to prevent it.”

“I didn’t come back from the dead to lose you and do nothing about it. “He answer angrily.

“Who said I’ll die before you?” Arya asked with tenderness. “When I heard about your death I was half mad with grief and...Even if that Red Witch hadn’t worked her magic I would have sold my soul to any devil that promised me to bring you back. This fears you have...I feel them too and I don’t want to lose you again, but death is the only certain thing in life. I would rather die with you and go to the other side holding your hand, but we must accept that eventually we will be separated and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I don’t wanna hear about it on our wedding night.” He growled out of frustration. “This was supposed to be a happy event.”

“And it is.” She said it as cuddled him with surprising affection. Once more he felt the urge to hold her tight and cry like a lost child. “We should live this happiness. We should make the most of it without thinking about the end.” She kissed him again. “I want to have your child growing inside me. I want to have a big family. My mother gave birth to five children and I’ll have no less so you better be prepared.”   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of things going on in this chapter and I wanted Jon to describe the wedding. Jon isn't exactly sane at this point and his fears are starting to get the best of him. His relationship with Arya is a strong and twisted one. I'm playing with a few Shakespearean elements here such as Othelo and Macbeth. Lady Macbeth's coronation dress was actually my inspiration for Arya's wedding dress. The link is here if you want to take a look.  
> https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CxqoE9bPXQ4/Vv8TT0wjPxI/AAAAAAACR4w/MByo7S2mrL8gaqlA92CTuLFekaFw0M8eA/s1600/Lady%2BMacbeth%2Bfilm%2Bcostume.jpg 
> 
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	42. Gendry

Sor Brynden offered him wine once they were given a room inside the crowded castle. “Honorable guests” they had been called, but Gendry felt absurdly furious by the sound of those words.

“She is not as pretty as I thought she would be.” Blackfish said as he took off his boots. “She looks like Ned Stark in everything, but there’s a bit of Cat somewhere inside the girl. Not the young Cat, with her warm smiles. The widowed Cat I found at Riverrun.”

“Happiness doesn’t agree with this place, I guess.” Gendry answered grumpily.

“She seemed at ease with the young man by her side.” Blackfish pointed and Gendry couldn’t think of anything else but his hammer. He wanted the safety of a good forge and the sound of his hammer hitting hot metal. “Not a usual thing for a bride on her wedding night.”

Gendry ignored the old man’s remarks on the lady as he laid on the floor by the fire. There was only one bed in the room and Blackfish deserved to rest his bones a bit. As for Arya... _ Queen Arya, you stupid. Mind your courtesies. _

He had expected to see her in a green gown with acorns on it. Maybe because that had been the first time he actually realized that she was a lady from noble birth, or just a pretty girl under all that dirt.

Blackfish had complained more than once how he wouldn’t shut up as they got closer to Winterfell. To be honest, Gendry had been thrilled with the perspective of meeting her again. He wondered if Arya would still remember him and how she would look like after all this time separated. He couldn’t help feeling happy about those little things, but all happiness dies once you cross the Neck.

He was perplex when the servant girl told him they were celebrating the Queen’s wedding at the castle. Brynden Tully asked to whom Arya was getting married to, but the servant girl never gave him a straight answer.

When Arya came to meet them at the courtyard Gendry was dazzled by the sight of her. It had felt just like seeing snow for the first time on their way to the North.

She had grown in her beauty, even if Blackfish insisted that she lacked Lady Stark’s refinement. Her dress was made of creamy wool and there were pearl strings all over her bodice. Her hair was combed and tamed by a headband also made of pearls.  _ Pretty like the first snow. _

Gendry couldn’t think of anything to say to her when she walked hand in hand with a man all dressed in black. He supposed that was her new husband. A young man with a full and well cut beard, dark hair pulled back in a knot and eyes as cold as ice. His face lacked smiles and warmth, but he reminded Gendry of Lord Eddard Stark.

He had expected Arya’s husband to be old and disgusting. Someone they had forced her to accept instead of a young man with a decent face. Her husband even sounded caring and gentle whenever speaking to her and to Gendry’s surprise there was no rebellion in her actions. In fact they touched each other with strange familiarity.

_ Queens don’t get to marry bastard boys. I was a fool to think otherwise. _ The thought was bitter.

Her husband escorted her inside without missing the opportunity to remark that it was time for them to retire to their chambers.

There was an unreasonable part of him that had expected Arya to fight that man and refuse to be taken to the room and her wedding bed.

It broke Gendry’s heart to realize that Arya was in love with another man and somewhere inside that castle that cold stranger would bed her without a second thought.

Blackfish’s snored the whole night and Gendry couldn’t sleep with all the noise inside the castle.

The girl named Jeyne came early in the morning to tell them the Queen would grant them an audiência once they had broken the fast.

“Let me do the talking, boy.” Blackfish advised him in his usually calm tone. “And avoid looking at my niece like that. She is queen now and a married woman. Her  husband would be within his rights to cast you out of his house for being disrespectful to her.”

_ His house...His wife... _ Those words were knives.

They were taken to the Queen’s solar once they had eaten. It didn’t take long until a short man with striking green eyes came in. He had a giant lizard in his doublet and seemed to be younger than Brynden by two decades or so.

“The Queen and Prince are on their way. It shouldn’t be long.” The man said. “I’m Howland Reed; Hand of the Queen.”

“Who is this man my nice has taken for her husband? A Prince, you said. Is he dornish or a foreigner from Essos?” Brynden asked carefully.

Before Reed could give Sor Brynden an answer the said Prince entered the room. He wore his black clothes and seemed vigorous and ferocious in his looks.

“I have many names, sor.” He said sharply. “My story is also a complicated one that Lord Reed will be delighted to tell you on a more convenient occasion. My given name is Aemon, but I’m better known as Jon Snow. I’m the Queen’s Consort and Protector of The North.”

“Her brother?!” Gendry’s voice escaped his mouth out of shock and disgust.

Blackfish seemed just as mortified as he was, but said nothing about it as that man looked at Gendry as if he were a nuisance to be dealt with.  _ His house...His wife...His sister... _ He felt suddenly nauseous.

“My lady wife may have told you this lie when you helped to escort her to the Wall.” Jon Snow said with cold satisfaction.  _ It didn’t sound like a lie back then. She would say the name Jon as if she was whispering the name of her gos in a prayer. Once I dared to call you bastard just to face her rage and...Lose her for good. _ The thought was painful and bitter. “I’m Lady Lyanna’s son by Rhaegar Targaryen. Lord Stark claimed to be my father in order to keep me safe until I was old enough to deal with my responsibilities.”

“I’m sure there are other matters that need my attention other than my husband’s identity. He is my husband and cousin. That’s all you need to know. That’s all that matters. That much said, we should deal with the relevant matters. Politics and war, you said.” The Queen’s voice was heard. Arya entered the room dressed like an unusual lady. Her dark grey dress was half covered by a breastplate covered in black leather. On her head a simple crown made of iron and bronze. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, uncle? What news you bring from the Riverlands?”

All them bowed at her entrance in a sign of respect. The girl he once knew seemed to be dead inside the woman that looked at them with eyes made of ice.

“Your uncle Edmure Tully had a daughter. He is held hostage at Casterly Rock along with his family.” Blackfish said soberly. “The Lannister army has been partially removed to King’s Landing and the Kingslayer is said to be missing. They have no general. Kevan Lannister is dead and Cersei is isolated at the capitol and dealing with the Tyrells.”

“What of the Freys? Do they have enough men to keep the Riverlands?” Arya asked with precision.

“They have numbers but lack a voice of command. The countryside is in utter chaos. There are outlaws and villains everywhere.” Brynden said with sorrow. “I managed to escape the siege of Riverrun. Once I heard of your safe return to Winterfell I decided to come North. We fought for your brother and I’ve been gathering support among a few lords that have reason to see Late Walter Frey and all of his sons dead. I have their names and their allegiances, but we need a strong leadership. We need the Queen in The North.”

“You mean a war to claim back the Riverlands.” Jon Snow pointed sourly.

“Winter is here, sor.” Queen Arya said cautiously. The Arya he knew could hardly hold her tongue at times, but the Queen had to measure every word before speaking. “As much as I would like to march South and kill some Freys, I have a duty to my people. This plan of yours would demand coin and resources we can’t dispose of right now.”

“As I told you. We have supporters and Freys have been already dying like flies.” Sor Brynden insisted. “The Brotherhood has been doing a terrific job ambushing them. We’ve seen it. Ten, sometimes five-and-teen bodies hanged by the neck on trees along the way. All of them Freys.”

“Is Beric Dondarion still commanding them?” Arya asked, addressing Gendry directly for the first time. “I would love to see that man hanged and dead for good this time.”

“No, Your Grace.” Gendry answered awkwardly. “The last time...Thoros didn’t brought Lord Beric back. He brought someone else though. A woman. She is the one demanding the hanging.”

“What is this woman’s name? Who is she?” The Prince asked with evident discontentment over Gendry’s presence in the room.

“Lady Stoneheart is who they called her.” Gendry answered. “A terrifying creature.”

“Some say she is your Lady Mother.” Sor Brynden completed. “Revived by some sort of dark magic, if you are to believe in those tales. They say a giant wolf dragged her body out of the river and Thoros of Myr brought her back as he did to this Beric Dondarion. Nonsense, as you can see. A bloody disrespect to your mother’s name.”

“Have you seen her?” Arya asked Gendry immediately. Her eyes were suddenly wide and full with light and tears.  _ She still looks like a child crying for her mother. _

Blackfish could call it nonsense, but Gendry knew better. Arya had seen Lord Beric and Thoros working their fire magic. She was certain to believe it.

“Aye…” Gendry nod. “Although I doubt she had the face that you remember. Her throat has been cut and she can’t speak like a normal person. Her face has deep scars and her hair has been cut. She has sentenced people to death claiming they had murdered her son. I found Sor Brynden at the inn I was working at...He told me of his niece who had claimed back Winterfell and I knew it had to be you. You needed to know.”

“Thank you, Gendry.” Her voice had been filled with warmth and sorrow all at once. For a second he almost forgot about who they were.

He wished for nothing but to hold her and offer her solace, but before he could say anything Jon Snow had his hand on her shoulder in a protective way.  _ She doesn’t need me. She already has a husband to offer her comfort. _

“I would like to talk to my uncle alone.” The Queen declared. “Lord Reed, please inform the maester that I need reports on my cousin and aunt’s conditions at the Vale. I’m not promising to march over the Riverlands, but if we must think about long term plans House Aryn should be our natural ally in this.”

“Lysa is dead. Your cousin Robin is the new Lord Paramount, but Littlefinger is regent there.” Sor Brynden said. “Petyr Baelish isn’t trustworthy.”

“Even so...My father was well loved at the Vale.” Arya answered. “I’ll have word with Lord Baelish and my cousin if I must. Invite them here or send an envoy to do the talking. We need to negotiate. Tell Lady Alysanne that I need to have a word with her before her children’s arrival.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me here, my love?” The Black Bastard asked her in such an intimate tone that all of those present in the room couldn’t help blushing at it. The Queen touched his hand gently.

“I shall be fine. Show Sor Gendry our forge and see if we can improve it. Tell him of the dragon glass and see what can be done about it.” The Queen said.

“As you wish.” Snow bowed his head lightly before turning to Gendry. “Follow me, sor.”

He didn’t have much choice in that. Gendry followed the man’s lead without questioning. There was a small crowd in the Great Hall looking at something that had been displayed at high table. Gendry looked at it with curiosity but asked nothing. Jon Snow must have noticed it.

“The Queen’s blood.” He said with barely conceived satisfaction. “An old fashioned tradition, but quite useful don’t you think?”

“Why would I think anything?” Gendry asked with his teeth clenched.

“You are a bastard, or so she told me.” Jon Snow pointed. “I thought you would know the importance of legitimacy. I won’t have my marriage to Arya questioned. The blood stain in our linens says that any child she might conceive will be legitimate.”

Snow had been waiting for a chance to humiliate him or simply reinforce that Arya belonged to him. Gendry felt a sudden rage boiling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the Prince’s back on their way to the forge.

“I don’t like you for a number of reasons, sor.” Snow said once they reached the forge. He turned to face Gendry properly for the first time as if finally acknowledging an enemy. “If it was up to me, I would send you away right now. I’m not stupid though. She told me of your abilities with metal and also of your loyalty. These are qualities I can appreciate. Qualities that might keep you safe within Winterfell as long as you remember that she is my wife.”

“I never meant to be disrespectful.” Gendry said sourly. “I was just...Surprised.”

“I’m sure you were.” the Prince said bitterly. “You weren’t wrong though. For a long time we thought of each other as brother and sister, even if we never were. I’m really her cousin. It doesn’t make things easy to understand, but nobody ever questioned the Targaryens when they fell in love with their sisters or married them. At least I have the excuse of my name.”

“Why are  you telling me this? You said it yourself. She is your wife and I’m just a bastard from Flea Bottom.” Gendry answered harshly. “I’m not a fool to think that she would ever think of me when she already has her beloved brother, or cousin, or whatever fucking lie you’ve created to make this acceptable. I dared to disrespect your name once...I hurt her by doing so. I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“And yet you love her.” There was no question. Jon Snow simply knew and that had been the reason why they would be enemies until one of them was dead. “She might even have loved you back at some point. I’m not used to have competition to my lady’s affections and I don’t like the feeling. As long as you prove to be useful and loyal to her, I can learn to live with my own insecurities. I might even find you a suitable wife for a knight and grant you a safe home, but if you are anything but dutifully respectful toward Arya...I assure you that I’ll take your head myself.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> News from the Riverlands, Lady Stoneheart, a new POV character and...The Bastard Bow I signed for.  
> Yes, Jon is being a little piece of shit and taking the piss contest to a whole new level. I'm loving Queen Arya.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are appreciated.


	43. Arya

She felt suddenly overwhelmed by the informations about the Brotherhood and the said Lady Stoneheart. Once Jon and Gendry got out of the room it felt as if Arya was finally able to breathe.  _ Jon’s insecurities are something for me deal later. Gendry is a problem I’ll deal later...Now I must think about diplomacy and war. _

Arya looked at the Blackfish cautiously. There was something pleasant about him. Maybe something of her own mother’s calm and strict nature along with beautiful blue eyes.

“As I said...I want to help you, Ser. I just don’t know when I’ll be able to do so.” Arya said with empathy.

“You remind me of your brother.” Ser Brynden said as if he had figured a puzzle. “Young, sober, careful...Just not too wise about choosing a bed partner.”

Arya gave him a cold look. Jon was the one thing about her life she wouldn’t have anyone questioning.

“Careful, Ser. Kin or not, I won’t have you insulting my lord husband.” Arya answered sharply.

“I’ll need more than your word to believe him to be a Targaryen. You can bet the rest of the country will require just the same.” Blackfish said as a matter of fact. “For now you have the North. I will be more than happy to give you the Riverlands if I ever get them back, but he lacks the silver hair and the fair complexion of Rhaegar to make this story believable and win the other kingdoms to your cause.”

“Reed witnessed the whole thing. We have letters, Rhaegar’s will and sigil. Everyone knows about Rhaegar and Lyanna…” Arya pointed angrily. “My father died to protect his secret. Not even my mother knew about it...I won’t let his death to be waisted.”

“So you married your half brother to protect him.” Ser Brynden replied with blunt honesty and to that Arya didn’t have an answer. “There’s no shame in being who we are, Your Grace. I respect you for your bravery even if it disrespects your mother’s memory.”

“Are you here to chastise me, Ser? I wouldn’t have survived if I played by the rules. I’ve done things...Terrible things and Jon isn’t even close to be my gravest sin.” Her voice was weary and she felt exhausted.

“Far from it.” Brynden answered. “I recognize a warrior when I see one. You are the she-wolf protecting her pack.”

“Family. Duty. Honor...Those are my words too.” Arya said with resolution. “Jon is the only family I have left. My duty is to my people and my family. Honor is for my father’s memory...They will pay, uncle. Everyone of them will pay as long as I live. Freys...Lannisters...I’ll kill them all, but I can’t sacrifice my people along the way.” She took a deep breath as she thought about the last time she had seen Petyr Baelish. “I only remember Littlefinger vaguely. I saw him a couple of times in King’s Landing. What can you tell about him?”

“A man of delicate constitution and sharp mind. He was never without ambition and you can bet he didn’t get this high without getting his hands dirty. Don’t trust him.” Brynden’s words were sharp and resolute.

“I don’t intend to.” Arya answered with cold serenity. “Robin is a sickly child isn’t he? Who is his heir?”

“A young man named Henry Harding, as far as I know. He would be a good suitor to a queen, if only Your Grace wasn’t already married.”

“Said the man who never took a wife and defied your Lord for a lifetime.” Her answer came out heavy with sarcasm. “We are what we are.”

“Aye, Your Grace. We are much alike. I guess that’s why I like you better than your brother.” He laughed. “There must be something or someone else to bring the young man to our cause.”

“I’m sure of it. I don’t think a young man to be that bright or complex about their ambitions.” Arya smiled at him fondly. “Meanwhile...I would like to have you here as my honorable guest and also as my advisor. You are respected, experienced and you know quite a lot about southern politics, unlike the others. If we are to negotiate an alliance with the Vale, I believe your name and reputation are to work in our favor.”

“I’m old, Your Grace. This will be my last winter, but I would rather die fighting than sleeping.” He gave her a satisfied grin. “I’m honored with your request and I shall accept it. I’ll also keep at eye at the boy. Gendry has a good heart, but not a wise mind. I’ve been training him. He is quite good with the hammer.”

“Keep him out of Jon’s way. My husband is absurdly insecure at times.” Arya added. “I certainly don’t want him to die over some stupid thing.”

“I can try, but he loves you.” Brynden pointed. “Love make us do the most stupid things and we have Rhaegar Targaryen and Robert Baratheon as proof of it. Your brother too.”

“I hope you won’t think so low of me, ser.” Arya muffled a laugh at it. “I appreciate your honesty though.”

“Your choice was a poor one in terms of political advantages and relations with the other kingdoms, but it shows unity to the North. Make things safer here. You don’t have to fear his claim now and he has a lot to profit from your name. He also won you an alliance with the wildling which is pretty impressive.” Brynden said. “You are not stupid. That’s a good start.”

“I’m glad to know.” Arya couldn’t help enjoying the old man’s company. “Would you mind to send Lady Mormont in on your way out?”

“Not at all, Your Grace.” Brynden said. “It’s funny...I thought you had nothing of your mother in you, but now I think differently. I can see dear Cat’s determination in you. A bravery that only a woman could display. Give me a thousand blood thirsty soldiers to fight, but don’t give me a woman with a purpose. Those are impossible to stop.”

“Ser, you already are my favorite advisor.” She said with a warm smile before Brynden bowed and left.

Arya looked through the window and admired the quiet and peaceful sight of snow falling outside. It was an illusion, she knew. Even so, there was beauty in the deadliest things. Winter would be terrible and war at this time was a complication they should avoid, but at some point they would need to think about the South.

_ At some point I’ll need to think about my mother. _

Who ever craved for a crown was certainly mad. There was no fun in being Queen, let alone conciliating a thousand of different interest at the same time. They needed food for the winter and they need peace within the territory to guarantee their survival. Manderley was vital at this point and they needed to improve White Harbor’s trade if they were to buy food from the Free Cities.

The Vale was another matter entirely and Arya wasn’t particularly fond of dealing with Littlefinger.

“May I come in, Your Grace?” Alysanne’s voice dragged her back to reality.

“Please! Take a seat, Alys.” Arya replied without minding the protocol.

Alysanne had been distrustful of her since Jon’s identity was revealed. Arya was aware that her friend felt betrayed by her actions, but still...She wanted her friend back. She wanted Alysanne to be happy as well.

“Are you excited about your children’s arrival?” Arya asked with genuine interest.

“Indeed I am. I miss them terribly.” Lady Mormont said. Alys didn’t look well those days. She seemed pale. The maester said she had been looking for advice lately.

“Are you feeling well?” Arya asked.

“Not much, but it must have been something I ate.” Lady Mormont tried to make it sound simpler than it really was.

“I suppose it’s something normal once you are going through your third pregnancy.” Arya smiled at her with understanding. “We must agree that your affair with Tormund must be settled in more steady terms if he is going to be our permanent ally.”

“It seems that I’ll never be able to get near him without getting with child in the process. This is hardly the time for another baby.” Alys sighed. “I understand the Lord Protector wants to give him the Gift.”

“That is Jon’s idea. Tormund will need someone to teach him our ways in terms of politics and warfare. We must be prepared for eventual attacks. I would rather keep you here to help me with Winter Town. One thing is clear though. It’s about time for the two of you to make this official. Alys Karstark is married to a Thenn. You and Tormund could be our second great alliance with the free folk.”

“Do I have an option in this, or the matter is already decided?” Alysanne questioned bitterly.

“You can chose if you’ll stay here or if you go with him to the Gift.” Arya answered. “I won’t force you to accept him, but…”

“You need me to.” Alysanne concluded. “I understand it and I even respect your opinion about the matter, but I simply don’t feel like it. Tormund is a good man and I care for him, but accepting him would demand a lot from me and from my people. Not everyone has the stomach to take an enemy or a brother to bed without fearing of reprimand and judgement.”

“It will always be about Jon, won’t it?” Arya questioned bitterly.

“I’ll follow you because it’s my duty and my honor to do so, but I won’t pretend that I like the Lord Protector or find it to be normal for our Queen to marry her brother, cousin, or whatever Targaryen bullshit the two of you came up with. I won’t bow to a Targaryen King. Robb Stark promised us a forever free and independent North and that’s what comes attached to the crown on your head.”

“You do know that you are questioning my judgement and authority, don’t you?” Arya questioned harshly.

“I know that you could have my head for treason, but I won’t pretend to be anything but myself. You know I won’t fail you or your lord husband, but I refuse to die carrying this bitterness with me.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Alys. You are fighting for your people as much as I’m fighting for mine. I did what I had to do. You saw them...There were those ready to swear fealty to Jon instead of me and the North divided would be an invitation to chaos. Jon is my only family. I won’t betray him, or my father’s memory. I’ll protect my cousin and husband as my father did, by any means needed. You said what you wanted. I won’t be questioned in this by you or any other lord again. Was I clear?”

“Perfectly.” Alys answered sourly. “Even if we both know that you did it for yourself. The Lord Protector giving up his claim was just a convenient consequence of it. At least now you convinced me that you have the temper of a ruler. I would be disappointed if you didn’t threat my disrespects with a traitor’s death.”

“Were you testing me? Are you insane?” The Queen asked grumpily. At that Alys laughed a bit.

“No. I’m not insane.” Alysanne answered. “You are young, Your Grace. Even if you are a capable warrior and a clever ruler, you are still learning many of your duties. You are good and you give your loyalty to those who are loyal to you without reservations, but you must learn that you won’t be able please them all the time. I’m your friend, but I would be disappointed if you didn’t answer to my insubordination.” 

“What about Tormund. Will you accept to marry him then?” Arya asked anxiously.

“I suppose so. I just hope the children won’t find it too odd to have a father all of a sudden.” Alys said while touching the belly mindlessly.

“Good.” Arya smiled at her as she passed Alys a number of documents. “This shall be my wedding gift to you. The legitimation of your children, including the one who hasn’t been born yet. That said, your lineage is to rule Bear Island for the years to come.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Alys smiled. “Indeed a lovely gift.”

“I’m sure your children will be here any time now. You should be free from my presence so you can give them a tight hug.” The Queen declared as she felt slightly uncomfortable with Lady Mormont’s tests.  _ I still have much to learn _ . “I hope you understand what I’m doing and don’t think about me as anything but a friend.”

“First lesson. You don’t explain yourself to your subject, and that’s what I am. First and foremost I’m your subject.” Alys answered calmly. “I would and I will follow you blindly even if I don’t agree with your judgement at times. Ruling isn’t easy and especially for us women it’s a lonely business. If you try to please everyone around you, it won’t be long until you lose your head. I will marry Tormund not because of my will, or at least that’s what I’ll make everyone think. You gave me a husband that will depend on me to survive in the North, and also someone who I can trust to command men in battle and to protect my children in my absence. I’ll have the upper hand in this so...It’s not a bad deal for me and I won’t be expected to display my linens after the bedding.”

“That…” Arya rolled her eyes. “I thought it to be highly unnecessary and embarrassing, but at least I was spared the bedding thing.”

“It reinforces the legitimacy of your marriage and the children that will follow. A clever move even if those who were with you at Castle Black find it hard to believe that you were a maiden until last night. A public wedding and proof of its consummation. That makes Prince Jon your lawful husband and Lord Protector of the North. Nobody can say you thought lightly about this. You surely know how to sew your alliances. Be careful or they will call you The Needlework Queen.”

Arya didn’t answer to that, but she could appreciate the irony behind Alys words.  _ The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You’ll be sewing all through winter. When the spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers... _ Jon had said it to her before they were separated. A crown indeed felt like a penance and sewing alliances was even more annoying than Septa Mordane’s lessons.

She took the time to walk to the godswood once Alysanne left. She missed having some time for her own thoughts. A time for quietness and melancholy. Arya sat on the same stop her father used to sit to clean Ice. She rested her back against the trunk and closed her eyes for a while.

She hadn’t be married to Jon for a day yet, but it felt like an eternity. Arya missed her father more than anything at that point. She missed his voice and the gentle kiss between her eyebrows.  _ You’ll marry a king and rule his castle... _ Except Jon didn’t have his kingdom yet and she was the one giving him a crown. Her father surely wanted her to feel capable of great things, but Arya couldn’t help thinking that those words were a bit of a curse.

“Is it what you wanted for me?” She asked out loud. “I’m Queen now. I’m married to a King as well...Is it what you wanted? Does it make you happy to see me wearing a crown, father?” There were tears in her eyes. “It feels lonely and stressful…Was it the reason why you married for love, Robb? You married your lady wife so you would have a bit of happiness during your days?”

_ Arya...Arya...Arya... _ The cold wind whispered through the branches.  _ Queen...Queen...Queen… _

“I wish Bran was here. I wish I could sit with him and laugh about silly things.” She confessed to the tree. “I miss Rickon’s laugh and Sansa’s songs too, but I miss Bran the most. I think...He would understand me. He would know how difficult it is for me to go to bed and feel Jon’s touches on my body. You gods know how much I love him, but...Even if he is Lyanna’s son, in my heart he remains my brother.” She was crying openly for the first time in a long time. “I hate myself for loving him. I hate myself to desiring him. Am I sick? Am I such a corrupted creature that the only man I saw fit to love in the way I do is my own brother?”

_ You are Arya Stark...You told me you could be brave.... _

The whispering voice said again as she heard the sound of branches breaking. She looked ahead to face Nymeria’s gigantic form in front of her.

The she-wolf approached her and laid by her side. Although Nymeria was no longer a domesticated pup, she wasn’t ashamed of being petted on her neck every now and then. Unlike Ghost, Nymeria refused to be near people for long. She prefered the woods and she would often guide her pack to distant places in order to hunt. They only knew Nymeria was back to Winterfell because Ghost would run to the woods to meet her.

“You’ll always love me, won’t you?” Arya asked her direwolf as she caressed Nymeria’s fur.

“At least I don’t feel the need to be jealous of Nymeria.” Jon’s voice sounded with a hint of humor, taking her by surprise.

Arya looked at him afraid that he might have heard her prayers. His face suggested nothing but the sweet sensation of admiring a lover.

“There’s music inside the castle.” Jon said calmly as he walked toward her. “I never knew Alysanne Mormont could sing. Her children are adorable.”

“I should go and greet them properly then.” Arya answered in a tired tone.

“We can wait here a little longer if you feel tired.” He said as he sat by her side and embraced her. “I wish...I wish I could stop the time right now so we could be like this forever. Just you and me in the godswood.”

“I wish that too.” Arya agreed as she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder.            

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	44. Jeyne

Since the gathering, Winterfell had become an effervescent and yet austere court. Jeyne had seen the Queen and her Lord Husband get detained for hours in fierce discussions with the lords to decide how to proceed during winter while keeping an army to fight potential enemies from both North and South.

Queen Arya valued trade and so did the Master of Coins. Lord Manderly was delighted to see the young Queen considering improvements to the port and ships. Asha Greyjoy had agreed with terms of cooperation in exchange for her brother’s life. Since she was indeed an experient sailor, she had been sent to White Harbor to help Manderly with naval security and maybe even a military fleet.

Ser Brynden Blackfish was also a welcome presence in the Great Hall. He had been kind to Jeyne once he knew of her misfortunes and thanked her in behalf of House Tully for her loyal services to the Queen.

The other knight was something else entirely. Ser Gendry avoided the castle as much as he could and prefered to stay at the forge. He had been given Mikken’s old quarters and had been busy ever since forging swords, spears and chain mails. Rumor has it that Ser Gendry was an old friend to the Queen and therefore the Lord Protector’s sworn enemy.

Jeyne found it hard to believe. Not that she doubted the Queen to be familiar with a lowborn man like Ser Gendry, but because she doubted that Queen Arya would ever bother herself with any other man but Jon Snow.

_ Prince Aemon!  _ Her mind corrected her.  _ He is Prince Aemon Targaryen now. I must keep that in mind. _

Jeyne walked toward the forges to deliver some bread, cheese and ale to Ser Gendry and Ser Brynden. The Queen had asked her to see to their needs and so far Jeyne wouldn’t complain. She liked to admire the way Ser Gendry worked the metal, even if he barely acknowledge her presence.  _ It’s probably for the best. I don’t need a man in my life. I don’t want to share my bed with another man anytime soon. I prefer Val’s soft snore anyway. She always save me from nightmares instead of giving me them. _

Ser Gendry was hammering a horseshoe violently once she got there, while Ser Brynden seemed to be distracted with his brand new sword. It was the eldest who acknowledge her presence and greeted her with his usually gentle smile.

“Thank you, Jeyne.” Ser Brynden said. “You have been very kind to us. Is Her Grace still attending court?”

“Yes, ser. The Flints from the mountains are being particularly difficult about some dispute. Something about the flocks I guess. She is likely to be detained until supper.” Jeyne informed proudly.  _ I’m the Queen’s companion. I’m almost a lady-in-waiting. That’s good enough for me. _ “Anything important you want me to inform?”

“No need. My niece has a lot in her mind already. It’s about the maester though. A raven came a few hours ago. I don’t know what it is, but might be news from the Vale.”

“I’ll check with the maester, ser. Thank you very much.” Jeyne bowed her head lightly.

She turned back to the castle as she pulled her cloak up to her chin. It was cold and getting colder for sure. She found Val on her way back. The wildling princess had been hunting in the woods although whenever the wolves were near her chances of getting anything were severely affected. She brought a few birds with her and seemed proud.

“One day or another, I’ll kill one of those damn wolves and your mistress will be furious.” The wilding said. “They nearly stole away my hunt.”

“Keep it far from the wolves, then. It’s not as if they are here for no purpose. They make a good defense line.” Jeyne replied with good humor.

“Defense line you said? The white one was mounting the she-beast.” Val laughed. “There will be a new litter soon enough. Monstrous beast and not enough food to keep them happy.”

“You mean Ghost and Nymeria?” Jeyne asked with enthusiasm.

“Aye! Too bloody like their masters. That was bound to happen.” Val pointed. “I guess if I were a she-wolf, I would find the albino quite interesting. He does have a certain presence.”

Jeyne laughed hard at that and it felt odd. Laughing seemed to be reaching her without much struggle since they got back to Winterfell.

“That much is true.” Jeyne agreed. “I should tell Her Grace about it. She will be pleased, I think.”

“She will only be pleased when the crow gets a child in her belly.” Val said as they made way into the kitchens. “It has been what? A two full moons since their wedding?” Val lowered her voice and made sign for Jeyne to got closer so nobody would hear them. “Let’s be honest. Not all the moon tea in the world would keep a woman from getting with child if her partner was half as interested as the crow is. They have been at it for a while now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had gotten with child back in Castle Black.”

“You shouldn’t talk about those things.” Jeyne reproached her sourly. “There’s time still. They can afford waiting a while longer, especially if they are to go to the Vale.”

“Is it certain then? They will go south?” Val asked curiously.

“Not certain yet, but it has been discussed.” Jeyne pointed. “I would like to go. I could keep the Queen company and dress her properly. I would be able to see the Vale...They say it’s beautiful there.”

“Aren’t you terrified of the south?” Val seemed displeased with her sudden interest in travelling. Jeyne couldn’t help laughing.

“I suppose I could do more than simply sit by the fire for the rest of my life. I love the North, but I wouldn’t mind getting the chance to know other places.”

“What about the boy at the forge? I thought you wanted him.” Val questioned.

“Nah! Ser Gendry is a sight to my sore eyes, but I’m not getting married ever again. I would rather travel with the Queen and see her doing great things. When I’m old and tired, I’ll take her children to my lap and tell them about the things I’ve seen. I may even tell them about the wildling princess and how she fought the Battle of Castle Black.”

“That’s a sad thing to do with your life, but I guess I’m pleased to know that I’ll be remembered by you kneelers.” Val laughed. “Shouldn’t you be with your Queen?”

“Precisely.” Jeyne answered as a matter of fact before turning her back to her friend and getting out of the kitchens.

She passed by the Great Hall just to realize that the audiences had been resumed for the day. Jeyne went straight to the Queen’s chamber just to make sure that her mistress wasn’t in need of anything.

_ At least the Lord Protector has been out the whole day. It would be terribly embarrassing to get to her chambers just to find out they were...Busy. _ She couldn’t help giggling at the thought. At that point the Queen and the Prince hadn’t been interested in concealing their appetites for each other. Whenever they weren’t attending to public duties, they were locked up inside the room.

Jeyne knocked at the door and heard the Queen’s firm voice allowing her to come inside.

Queen Arya was sitting on her favorite chair by the fire. Her dark brown hair braided and falling over her shoulder. She had removed the breast plate she often wore whenever dealing with the lords and favored a simple wool gown and a heavy shawl wrapped around her arms as she read a piece of parchment.

“I have good news.” Jeyne declared, making the Queen turn to look at her. “Nymeria finally took a mate. Val found Ghost mounting her. I guess we will have a litter soon.”

“Oh! That’s good news indeed.” The Queen answered with a satisfied smile. “I have some good news for you as well. A messaged from Castle Black. Theon says he is well and that he finds his duties to the Watch to be reinvigorating, so you shouldn’t worry about him.”

“Theon troubled to write to Winterfell to tell me this?” Jeyne asked curiously. “This is unlikely.”

“He wrote as steward to the current Lord Commander. I understand Dolorous Edd to be illiterate. I guess he smuggled this piece of information in the letter.” Arya pointed. “He informs of a group coming to Winterfell, but says nothing about their mission here. They should be here already. This raven arrived terribly late. Please inform the guards that a group of Black Brothers should be expected in the following days. They must be well received.”

“At once, Your Grace.” Jeyne replied. “This was probably the raven Ser Brynden asked about. He thought it might be news from the Vale.”

“Not yet, I’m afraid.” The Queen answered. “That would be all for now, Jeyne.”

Jeyne nod before leaving the room. She wondered what news the Black Brothers would bring from the Wall. She couldn’t help feeling happy about Theon find solace in his new life, although she missed him.

She worn the guards about the visitors that were expected and once she was free from her duties she decided to go to the godswood for a change.

Those months in Winterfell had allowed her to be happy and hopeful again, even when life was still uncertain. It felt like being reborn and giving her first steps toward the path she wanted to walk. She had friends and a good mistress. Her service was appreciated by the Queen and she managed to build her own routine. It wasn’t much, but she was once more a human being and she had her dignity. That much said, Jeyne would often go to the godswood to thank the old gods for her new life and pray for her Queen’s health and safety.

Even with the castle crowded with guests the godswood remained quiet most of the time. Only the Nymeria and Ghost would venture to that part of the woods and both of them didn’t care about Jeyne’s presence.

As she approached the sentinel trees Jeyne heard voices coming from the sacred place. She walked toward it certain that it might be one of the Queen’s guests or even Lady Alysanne taking her children to pray.

Jeyne looked ahead just to find and odd group, dressed as wildlings sitting by the tree. They were all small and delicate in their constitutions, as if they had gone through a long period of starvation. A boy and a girl stood by the heart tree, while a third figure sat by the tree and touched its pale trunk.

Once she got closer, the person seated by the heart tree finally turned to face her. A boy…

“Hello, Jeyne.” Brandon Stark spoke and her only reaction was to cover her mouth with her gloved hands out of shock.    

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not particularly fond of this chapter, but at least Bran arrived at Winterfell.  
> I guess I accidentally created a crack ship, although I'm not sure if Jeyval will be a thing in this fic. My idea was to get two women with totally different back grounds to bond and be friends even if they don't get each other very well. A friendship based on mutual respect and admiration, but...I might yet make a couple out of it.  
> I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	45. Arya

When Jeyne came back to Queen’s Chambers with her face flushed, wide eyes and uneven breath, Arya wondered if there  had been some sort of accident. Jeyne wasn’t making much sense in her talking, but the Queen understood she should go to the courtyard at once.

Lord Reed followed them closely and there was such an urgency to Jeyne’s erratic behavior that Arya forgot entirely about her crown or even how she was expected to look like. She was probably much like the child she had been, with her messy hair and shapeless gown while clumsily wrapped shawl.  _ Fuck my hair and dress. I’m queen and I’m needed. Gods...I hope it isn’t Jon. _

Once they all arrived at the Great Hall it was plain enough that something massive have happened. The lords would look at her and then at each other as if they were uncertain of what to do or what to think. They made way for her and Reed to approach whoever had caused such a commotion.

“Father!” Two distinct voices said at the same time. A boy and a girl, both looking sickly and delicate in their constitutions.

Reed’s eyes went wide as he fell to his knees crying. The boy and the girl ran to him and Reed opened his arms to receive them in a tight embrace.

“Blessed be the gods!” Howland was crying like a child as he held them. “I’ve missed you so much!”

_ Jojen and Meera Reed...They were with Bran! _ Arya’s mind was nearly screaming. Was it possible that Bran was still alive? Could it be real?

She turn her back at Reed and his children, looking back to the center of the Great Hall just to find another person sitting on the floor all wrapped in furs. He looked up to face her. HIs auburn hair was almost reaching his shoulders. His face was sober and he looked like someone who had been nearly starved to death, but his eyes were deep blue and vivid with light. The young man smiled at her. A sweet smile.

“You haven’t change a single bit.” He said. His voice was lower than she remembered, but what did she know? They had been children back then and he had been lying on his bed with his broken body.

Arya ran to him without realizing she had been crying. She kneeled by his side and held him tightly as if she needed that to believe he wasn’t an illusion.

“Is it you?!” She said out of disbelief. Bran retributed her hug with the same enthusiasm. “I can’t...I can’t believe it’s you!”

“The gods must have listened to your prayers.” Bran answered in a gentle tone, but there was a hint of sarcasm in his tone.  _ As if he knew I’ve been praying. _ “I tried to come as fast as I could, but travelling like this is quite difficult. Theon...He was kind to us this time. He gave us food and horses to pull a cart. He told us...He told us about you and Jon. About what you did.”

Arya silenced him with several kisses placed all over his face. Bran laughed at her sudden display of affection as both of them ignored the shocked and scandalized eyes around them.

“We should probably talk in private.” Bran said with fondness. “People will talk.”

“For fuck’s sake let them talk!” Arya answered angrily before getting back to her feet. Arya took a deep breath and tried to fix her messed hair a bit as if she would suddenly become something more queenly. “Someone take my brother upstairs to my private office.” She turned to face Jeyne, who had been crying at the sight of such an emotional reunion. “Jeyne, have someone preparing rooms for Lord Reed’s children and my brother. I shall eat with my brother upstairs. Tell Jon that I’m waiting for him to join us there once he arrives.” Her voice came out as if she was giving orders to soldiers.

_ I must remember them that I’m still Queen. At least until this matter is decided, I still command the North. _

Gendry was the one to step forward and pick Bran in his massive arms. Arya bowed her head lightly in a sign of gratitude. Gendry didn’t say a thing but followed her instructions nonetheless.

Arya walked ahead to show Gendry the way. Her steps were harsh and hushed against the granite floor. Her head was an utter mess while all her fears, feelings and thoughts screamed inside it at the same time. She wanted to cry and more than anything she wanted Jon to be by her side once Bran confronted her.

Gendry sat Bran on a comfortable chair by the fireplace. Her old friend handled Bran’s body as if he was made of glass. It broke her heart to see how frail her brother were.

“Anything else, Your Grace?” Gendry asked with evident concern.

“That would be all for now. Thank you, Gendry.” Arya immediately. It would be for the best if Gendry were as far as possible once Jon arrived.

Gendry bowed his head lightly before leaving the room. Once they were alone, Arya sat by Bran’s side.

“How?” She asked without knowing what else she could say. “How did you escape?”

“A passage in the crypts. We managed to escape to the godswood an them I told Osha to take Rickon to a different place.” Bran said soberly. “I went to the Wall and then beyond. We had some help along the  way, but I still don’t know how we managed it. Hodor, he...He is dead.” The last piece came out in a whisper.

“I’m so sorry.” Arya whispered back. “Why have you gone beyond the Wall? You could have looked for Jon at Castle Black.”

“I couldn’t. I had other things to do. I was needed elsewhere.” Bran answered mindlessly. “I know things...Many things...I needed to come back, but not before you had taken Winterfell back. I wanted to come earlier. I heard your prayers...I tried to talk to you, but you were so afraid and desperate at times…”

“What?” She asked out of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Bran looked at her. His eyes were full with some dark wisdom, as if he had seen ages passing by.

“Your talk with Reed about alliances. You and Jon signing a contract before the old gods.” Bran took a deep breath before turning his face away. “I saw it when he placed his cloak around your shoulders. It also pained me to see...How distressed you were. Do not ask me how. I barely understand the things I see at times, but I do see them and I do know things most people don’t.”

“Are you disgusted? Do I make you feel uncomfortable with my...Marriage?” She asked between clenched teeth as the tears started to fill her eyes once more. Bran held her hand kindly.

“You did what you had to.” He answered gently. “It gives me some comfort to know that even if he isn’t our brother, Jon will always take care of you as father would have. As for the love you feel for him...This isn’t exactly a surprise. Maybe you’ll no longer feel it so hardly with time. Maybe one day he will kiss you and touch you without you thinking of him as a brother. That much I can’t tell, but you knew the price to be paid. A bit of blood is a fair price to be paid for pleasure.”

She felt suddenly embarrassed by the way Bran spoke of it. There was judgement in his voice and even a hint of admiration for her courage. She wondered if Bran had seen it somehow. If he knew exactly how it had been to give her maidenhead to Jon.

“All for nothing.” Arya said coldly. “You came back. The crown is yours. Winterfell is yours...It’s up to you to decide if we are to support his claim or not, but Cersei will come after us soon or later.”

“We will think about Cersei in due time. We have more urgent matters to deal with.” Bran answered calmly. “Once I’m feeling more of myself, I’ll pledge you my loyalty.”

“You can’t! Bran...You are Robb’s true heir! Our father’s eldest living son! This is the law and I won’t usurp you from your rights!” Arya insisted.

“I’m not doing you any favor by allowing you to keep the crown. If anything I’m cursing you with such a burden, but right now the North needs unity and a strong leadership if we are to survive the trials to come.” Bran said sharply. “Someone who can command and travel fast. Someone who is able to hold a blade and face our enemies. I have something for you...It’s downstairs. Maybe your friend can’t improve it, but I think it’s a blade suitable for a queen like you.”

“I’m not a queen.” Arya finally let the tears take the best of her.

“Yes, you are. Father promised you that much and here you are.” Bran answered with conviction before kissing the back of her hand. “Queen in The North by rights of conquest and soon to be Queen of The Seven Kingdoms by marriage. More than that...You are our only hope right now. You must get our pack back together.”

“Manderly is searching for Rickon already.” Arya sighed. “So far we have nothing. I don’t know where Sansa is.”

“We will soon have news.” Bran said it as a matter of fact. He looked at her fondly. “I’ve dreamed of this moment about a hundred times. I thought I would come back to find you dressed in male clothes and yet...I find you dressed like mother.”

“Honestly...I find it comfortable to wear when I’m not dealing with weaponry or attending a war council.” Arya smiled lightly. “Mother had a regal figure, I think. I already have so much of father that...I feel it’s not fair with her. She won’t be forgotten. Even if Jon would rather have me looking nothing like her.”

“You still look like yourself.” His voice was warm and kind. “I don’t see why you couldn’t be a queen and a warrior. That’s who you have always been.”

“I’ve missed you, brother.” Arya confessed. “I missed having someone to talk and someone to share my grief with.”

“I guess it must be uncomfortable to talk about the past with Jon.” Bran pointed. “I’ve missed your company too, although Meera reminded me of you every now and then.” He said Meera’s name with fondness in his voice. Arya couldn’t help smiling at it.

“I’ll love to hear all about Lady Meera once you are rested and properly feed.” Arya said warmly.

“She is a good friend.” Bran’s voice turned to melancholy. “Make sure Reed will find her a good man. Someone kind and honorable. Or give Meera her own holdfast...Whatever makes her happy.”

“I’m looking at the most kind and honorable man I know.” Arya tried to reassure him a bit, but Bran seemed resolute. “I wouldn’t mind fighting this battle for you. I’m sure Reed would be honored to have his daughter married to you.”

“She deserves more than a cripple.” He insisted. “I won’t deprive her from a full life. I won’t have her serving as my nurse or abdicating from having children. I’m not that selfish. Besides...I have much and more to do before we are safe. Meera is...A good memory. A dream of Spring.”

Someone knocked at the door and once Arya gave permission Jeyne entered carrying their supper. She thanked her friend and asked if Jon had arrived, but Jeyne said he hadn’t come back yet. That was probably for the best. Arya wasn’t sure how Jon would react to Bran’s presence at this point.

She observed as Bran ate his broth and bread as if he hadn’t tasted food in centuries.

“It tastes better than I remembered.” He said with tears in his eyes. “All of this...I can barely believe it.”

“I know.” Arya said kindly. “We are finally home.”

“Do you miss them?” Bran asked as he tried to clean his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every day. Especially when I feel happy.” Arya’s voice was heavy with nostalgia. “I would like to have them near to share it.”

“What is it that makes you happy, sister?” Bran asked curiously.

“My moon blood…” Arya pointed mindlessly. “It’s late...I haven’t told anyone yet. Not even Jon. I want to be certain of it before...Before making an announcement. I wish they were here, especially Mother.”

“You can share it with me now.” Bran said with a warm and full smile. “I won’t tell Jon a thing. I promise.”  

“Tell me what?” Jon’s voice filled the room with authority.

Arya turned to look at his face pale with fear. Bran remained calm and composed, although his face showed a bit of coldness this time. He wasn’t looking at his older brother anymore. He was looking at his broken hero.

“Hello, Jon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very emotional chapter and probably one of my favorites so far.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	46. Bran

It wasn’t easy to look back at the man he once called brother and realize that very little of his hero remained there. Not that Jon wasn’t a good man in general lines, but green-seer or not, Bran still had problems dealing with all the information he had gathered.

_ He is not my brother. _ Those words were hurtful and Bran could only guess how difficult it was for Arya to believe them at times.

Jon had brought the blade with him and Bran could only appreciate the irony in the moment.  _ A Targaryen blade fit to a Targaryen heir. Madness or greatness? Which side you’ll chose, brother? _

As Jon looked at him sitting by Arya’s side in an evident moment of shared affection, Bran couldn’t help noticing how much fear moved him. In many ways it felt like Jon was constantly ready for an attack. Some dark tragedy that would swap Arya way from him. Arya was the bold and practical one. She stood proudly in her authority even with her messed hair, or even when she had just felt to her knees to allow her emotions to take over.

Arya had grown into her confidence, while Jon came back to life to gravitate around her like a shadow.  _ He died with her name on his lips...Just like his father did. It’s only natural. It was Arya to bring him back. She is his anchor. I can trust his love for her and his rage, but I wonder...Is this thing inside him trustworthy? This darkness that brought him back...This magic...Can love keep him honorable and pure even when the fear of losing his love is so strong in him?  _

“Tell me what?” Jon’s imperious voice asked once more.  _ A wolf defending his mate. I wish I knew when I lost my position in this pack...I wish I knew when I became your enemy. _

“The gruesome details of my journey back home.” Bran answered soberly. He wouldn’t interfere in their awkward marriage just yet. Arya deserved to choose the right moment to break the news. “It suffices to know that I’m back and once more we are together.”

Bran noticed how Jon’s shoulders relaxed a bit and his eyes immediately searched for Arya with concern and devotion. He could hardly blame his cousin for being a bit paranoid about Arya’s wellbeing.

Jon’s eyes then turned back to Bran and there was warmth and relief there. The coldness in the prince suddenly melted and allowed his more human traits to come back to surface.

“I’ve waited for you to visit me at the Wall.” And suddenly Bran felt his heart running back to childhood. In his mind he would run to hug Jon tightly. Jon was once more his big brother talking about all the adventures they had dreamed about. He was a man grown now, but he was crying like a baby nonetheless.

Jon put the sword aside and went to him. His strong arms held Bran in a tight embrace. Bran closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment with all the bittersweetness in it. It felt good to be at home again, even if he barely recognized it.

“I’ve missed you too.” Bran said kindly. “I wish things had been simpler for us.”

“Indeed.” Jon said in a guarded way as he broke the hug. “I couldn’t believe it when they told me you were back.”

“You are not the only one taken by surprise these days.” Bran pointed uncomfortably. “I already told Arya...I shall pledge both of you my fealty once I’m feeling more of myself. I have no interest in undermining your efforts and destabilize the North. Besides, I know better than to stand between both of you.”

“I’m glad to know that.” Jon’s jaw was suddenly tense. “Arya must have told you that…”

“He knows, Jon.” Arya said sharply. “Every fucking human being from here to hell knows that I’ve taken you for my husband in a scandalous marriage. We should probably allow Bran a moment of rest and talk about the details later.”     

Arya walked toward him with anxiety in her movements. Bran have no doubts about the sincerity or depth of their feelings for each other. It was their new dynamics what seemed a bit odd. Jon’s hands reached for her waist protectively while Arya seemed reluctant to accept the gesture with Bran still in the room.

_ They feel ashamed. _ The thought was clear and painfully accurate.

“The sword.” Bran pointed calmly. “I was instructed to bring it. A proper weapon for the wars to come.”

“This is valyrian steel. Where did you find it?” Jon asked while Arya took the chance to impose some distance between them.

“A Targaryen blade to suit a Targaryen heir.” Bran said soberly. “Since you already have a blade of your own, Dark Sister should fit Arya’s hand perfectly.”

“You mean Visenya’s sword?” Arya asked with confusion and sheer enthusiasm in her voice. His sister still had her heros intact.

“Let us say that I found it somewhere beyond the Wall.” Bran answered her with a discreet smile. “It’s priceless if we are to fight against what is coming our way.”

Jon looked at him with careful eyes.  _ He knows. He has seen them _ . The thought was a mix of relief and terror. At least Jon would believe him in that.

“Do you know how long until they reach us?” Jon asked with caution.

“Who reach us?” Arya questione curiously.

“We still have time. They are clumsy and slow. It should give us time to prepare.” Bran said before turning to his sister. “The true enemy comes from the wild North.

Arya seemed to understand just half of the conversation, while Jon looked at him with sober and concerned eyes.

Jon slid the sword away from the scabbard and looked at the blade carefully. It was slender and delicate for his hands, almost too small for him to feel comfortable with, but it should fit a woman’s hand just fine.

“Bran is right.” Jon finally said. “You should keep this one.”

“I already have Needle. I don’t need another sword, let alone a Targaryen blade.” Arya answered sharply.

“We no longer have Ice and valyrian steel is efficient against the enemies that come from the north.” Jon insisted. “Besides...Even if we don’t like the sound of it, I am a Targaryen and you are a Targaryen by marriage if anything about this union were remotely traditional. It’s a light blade, made for the hands of a woman and you are more than capable of carrying it with dignity.”

“I’m not a bloody Targaryen and neither are you.” Arya growled out of frustration. “Rhaegar may have sired you, but your father’s name was Ned Stark. I’ll carry the blade if I must, not because of your name or mine, but because it’s the practical thing to do.”

“As you wish.” Bran observed Jon lowering his gaze for a second as he answered her. _He knows how she feels._ _Even if he doesn’t like the sound of his true name he will insist upon it for the sake of my sister’s conscience._ That was something Bran could respect. The love they had for each other knew no bounds or limits, even if it was more than just complicated. Jon would do anything to make her happy and comfortable with their arrangement, even if he had to sacrifice his own identity in the process.

“I would like to have a moment with Jon.” Bran intervened with a diplomatic tone. “Would you mind it terribly, sister?”

“Not at all.” Arya answered with a brief smile. “I’ll check if everything is ready for you. Tell me if you need anything else.”

Arya left the room without saying a word. She seemed tense and older than she really was, but Bran could hardly ignore the fact that in many ways she was still a child.  _ Just like me. _

Her absence seemed to allow Jon a moment of relaxation. He looked at Bran with cautious eyes before taking a sit by the fireplace.

“How bad is it?” Jon asked in a tired tone.

“Bad enough, but as I said...We still have time to prepare.” Bran answered in a composed tone. “I know you don’t feel comfortable talking about the Others near Arya, but she needs to know the extension of the danger.”

“How can I tell her when I barely know it myself?” Jon was right. He had just a glimpse of their power and that was not enough for him to prepare for the war.

“We will need allies.” Bran pointed. “Southern Lords, proper weapons…”

“I tried. The only one who bothered to listen to our call was Stannis and now he is dead, along with his heiress and queen.” Jon’s voice sounded cold this time. “They won’t listen.”

“Someone may.” Bran added. “We should seek help in the Vale and the Stormlands.”

“I’ll do as you say, but I’m not confident it will work.” Jon sounded tired. “Are you really fine with all this?”

“What good would come from me telling you that I’m not?” He said it in a practical tone. “I am Robb’s true heir and the rightful King in The North, but I’m also painfully aware that I can’t perform some of my duties while trapped in this body. If these were peaceful times, I would insist upon my claim. We are at war though. I lost Winterfell once and I’m not making the same mistakes again. You can manage our army and security, while Arya deals with pretty much everything and anything without even blinking. This is a pack and we are stronger together. My vanity won’t stand between us and our survival, of that you can be sure.”

“I’m glad to know.” Jon’s voice sounds insecure. “I would never...I would never usurp either of you of your birthrights. I’m not such a vile traitor. I chose Arya because…”

“Because it was the practical thing to do at the time and also because you would chose her over anyone else, no matter what.” Bran answered sharply. “You don’t owe me any explanations, Jon. What I think of you at this point is useless. I’ve seen the big picture. I know a great deal more than you do and I’m not stupid to think low of you for doing what was necessary, or for loving my sister in the way you do.”

“As long as you don’t add to Arya’s moral issues, I really don’t care about your opinion on our marriage.” Jon’s voice was heavy with tension.

“Except that you do.” Bran added sarcastically. “Coming back to Winterfell suddenly made everything just too real. You grew up together under this roof, calling her sister, just like I did. The truth about your parentage was a balm, but it doesn’t erase the past.”

“I can live with my conscience. My dilemmas and fears are mine alone, but every day I feel her escaping between my fingers. I know how she feels...I’ve seen her crying in the godswood and cursing the world for loving me as she does.” Jon’s eyes were full with tears. “I don’t doubt her love for me, but it pains me to see her struggling to get over the past we shared and accepting our new life together.” He took a deep breath. “With you here...I don’t know how your presence will affect her.”

“I may have my own issues dealing with it, but I don’t want Arya to be distressed or unhappy by your side. I’m not your enemy, Jon. I’m not even a threat to your marriage to her.” Bran sighed. “I wish I could give you a simple answer or solution, but you should probably just...Talk to her about it, instead of drowning in your fears.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I didn't like the chapter, but as the dialogues developed I started to enjoy it quite a lot. Jon and Bran need to get reacquainted with each other, especially in which concerns the new power dynamics inside Winterfell.  
> It's not that I think Bran wouldn't capable of being KiTN because of his legs and powers. It's quite the contrary, but at this point I guess he agrees that another change in the northern leadership would be harmful to their stability as an independent country. I like to think of Bran as a point of balance between Jon and Arya.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	47. Jon

By the time he went back to his chambers Jon was feeling nauseous. A part of him had hoped Bran to be dead at that point. Not that he actually wanted Bran to be dead, but Jon admitted he would rather avoid the complication of another potential claimer. Bran was a threat to Arya’s claim, but if he agreed to pledge her his loyalty than Jon would gladly receive him back at Winterfell.

_ This is how low I’ve got. I’m no better than Bolton in my greed and ambition. What am I doing? What I’ve become?! _ Those questions were getting frequent in his mind along with his crescent ambition.

Bran was changed. The child in him seemed dead just like the boy in Jon. He knew about the Others and judging by their conversation he also knew way more than he was willing to say. They needed allies and Jon needed to reinforce the security in the North.

The Vale was still the obvious choice if they were to look for alliances, but Jon failed to understand why Bran mentioned the Stormlands. Tommen Baratheon was the rightful heir, wasn’t he? Cersei’s son. There was no chance of him offering support to anyone who claimed to be King or Queen in the North.

_ Unless he knows things we don’t. Brynden gave us some insight on what’s going on in the South, but we still seem to be alienated in this game. We need information and we need it fast. _

He walked into the Queen’s Chamber just to find Arya already laid in bed. She looked lovely in her night gown and messy hair.  _ She looks like a maiden from the songs and my own dreams of perfection. Lonely, lovely and lethal. _

Jon took of his boots and changed his garments for something comfortable before getting under the layers of fur. He took the place by her side and pulled her languid body to his protective arms. That made her open her eyes and smile at him lazily.

The memory of her crying in the woods came back to his mind like a plague.  _ Do I make you feel disgusted? Will you ever look at me and see just a man or I’ll be forever your brother? _ Arya touched his face and kissed his lips lightly.

“Is everything fine?” She asked while caressing his face. Jon kissed the palm of her hand before placing it over his heart.

“I should be the one asking you this.” He answered calmly. “Bran seems to be eager to cooperate. I can’t say that I’m not relieved to know that.”

“He is our brother, Jon. He would never do us harm.” Arya said in a conciliating tone.

“Your brother.” Jon insisted. “He would be within his rights if he chose to make our lives difficult. Bran is reasonable though. He knows we are stronger together.”

“You still look worried.” Arya add as a matter of fact. At that Jon sighed.  _ How can I not be worried when I cause you so much distress? _

“It’s with you that I’m worried about.” Jon confessed. “You just got the chance to reunite with one of your siblings. Someone to judge your choices in which concerns us. I’m not a fool, Arya. I can feel it at times...How you avoid my touches or how you have to summon all your strength to retribute my caresses. You won’t talk about it with me, but this feeling haunts our bed every night and I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“I can’t simply forget the past. No matter how much I try...I can’t.” Arya confessed in a whisper and suddenly she was vulnerable within his arms. Jon hugged her tighter as if could reassure her somehow. “Am I sick? Am I such a disgusting person that I could only fall in love with a man I’ve called brother? I wish...I wish I were a Targaryen so at least I could tell others that this is something in my blood. I wish I had your conviction in this.”

“I may have the name, but I was raised as a Stark too.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve asked myself the same questions for a long while until I decided it doesn’t matter. We are what we are. If the gods made me love you, then it’s not my place to question it and I am helpless without my mate. When I was stabbed...Before everything turned black...I could only think of you and how I wanted to hold you once more. I would give anything and everything to be with you again and perhaps I have. Everything I’ve done...Every step I gave since we reunited...It was all for you.”

“Suddenly everything got too real.” Her voice was heartbreaking. “Suddenly I’m queen. Suddenly I have to be everything I tried to avoid my whole life. I talk like my mother. I’m trapped in a role I feel unfit to perform and the judgement crushes me all the time. I am a wife too...Your wife and I have no idea of what I’m doing most of the time.”

“You are making me happy.” He answered with an indulging smile. “You are a natural leader and I can’t help being proud to call you my lady and queen.”

“There’s something else.” Arya said with hesitation.

“What is it?” His voice was gentle and reassuring.

“My moon blood...It’s late.” Arya said carefully. “I think I’m...I think I’m with child.”

Those words were enough for Jon to feel panic taking over him once more.  _ It can’t be. Please, gods...Don’t let it be real. _

There was nothing he would like more than to hold their child in his hands for the first time and yet Melissandre’s words were still too clear in his mind.  _ I have only one woman...I refuse to take another. Maybe this...Maybe this will be enough to change the vision. _

Jon kissed her forehead and caressed her face lightly.  _ Catelyn Stark had five healthy children. Grandmother Lyara had four. Queen Rhaella had three...Maybe there’s a chance. She can still survive it. _

“Are you certain of it?” He asked calmly.

“I suspect it. I haven’t talked to the maester yet.” Arya answered with a hint of disappointment.  _ She hoped I would be happy with the news. She wants her husband to share her joy, not to be paranoid over his fears. _

“I shall summon the maester in the morning so he can confirm it.” Jon answered cautiously. “I want to make sure everything is fine with you and the child.”

“You don’t seem happy with the news.” Arya pointed with resentment. “You don’t want it.”

“There’s hardly anything else that could wish for but having a dozen healthy children with you.” He answered with tenderness. “But I would give up my dreams in a blink of an eye if that meant losing you in the process. I am afraid, Arya. You can hardly blame me for being so when my own mother died in childbirth.”

“Well...My own mother had five children. I don’t see why I can’t be more like her. I may look like Lyanna, but I’m Catelyn Stark’s daughter still.” Arya answered sharply. “I want to have children. I want a family as big as the one I’ve lost and even if I didn’t want it...Producing an heir is our duty to the North. It’s our legacy.”

“Fuck duty and legacy.” Jon sighed. “We have Bran now. Maybe even Rickon if Manderley manages to find him. I’m not concerned with the succession at this point.”

“You really don’t want this child, do you?” She asked with tears in her eyes.

“Arya...I...Of course I want this child. I want to see you heavy with child and to hold our son or daughter in my hands. I want to name our son Robb or Eddard and you can even name her Catelyn if it’s a girl and I won’t say a thing about it. I just...I would sell my soul to any god capable of guaranteeing me you’ll be safe in the process.”

“Well...I’m not dying.” Arya answered stubbornly as she sat on the bed as she tried tame her messy hair with her hands in angry movements. “It’s infuriating, you know? You are acting as if I hadn’t managed to survive on my own for years. I escaped King’s Landing, the King’s Road, Harenhall, Braavos...I had no one to protect me most of the time. I’m not some helpless creature for you to protect. I won’t break, Jon. I’ll just have a child and there’s no reason to believe that I won’t be able to manage it.”

“Fine.” Jon sighed. “I guess I’ve pushed the limits of your patience and my own luck. I upset you and I’m sorry about it. I am happy with the news and I agree that you are strong, young, healthy and capable of going through this. It would also tranquilize me if you agreed with the maester checking on your health.”

“This can’t be used as an excuse for you to keep me away from my duties.” Arya got out of bed to fetch a glass of water. “I’m still Queen and if what Bran says about our new enemy is true...It’s likely that I’ll need to go to the Vale at some point to secure an alliance.”

“I can serve as your emissary. It’s a long journey and it’s certainly not good for you at this point.” Jon answered immediately.

“For years your name was associated with my mother’s humiliation. If you go on your own this will send the wrong message to my prideful cousin. Bran can’t travel in his current condition.” Arya sighed.

“Send Ser Brynden then. He has a good reputation and is blood connected to Lord Aryn. If anyone has a chance of impressing the boy it’s the old man. I mean...He is a legend.” Jon insisted.

“Littlefinger is Lord Protector of the Vale. Ser Brynden isn’t fond of him and I understand there’s history between them. He might recognize me and he once said he had been a friend to my mother. I thought it would be more adequate if I talked to him personally, but we shall see it. I’m still waiting for an answer to my letters.”

“Maybe it can be postponed until the child is born.” Jon suggested soberly.  _ Or I have dealt with it in another way.  _ “We have time to think about it, so why don’t you come back to bed now?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	48. Melissandre

Since the Queen’s wedding the castle had been crowded with visitors and emissaries, but every day seemed to hold a brand new surprise. First the strong lad who knew nothing about his true identity.  _ He looks like Stannis and I can feel it...Blood of a king. _ Then the true King in The North arrived and everyone around them seemed a bit tipsy.

She would rather not deal with Brandon Stark. Even though he was young, there was something inside his eyes that would never fail to make Melissandre uneasy.  _ He is a dangerous young man and not only because of the magic inside him. He has the Queen’s trust and my Dark Prince loves him while I am hated by both. _

Even if she felt bitter about the distrust, Melissandre couldn’t complain about her position in court. She had her own chambers and a level of comfort she had only enjoyed in Stannis company. No one to disturb her in her endless contemplation of the flames.

_ Dragons to the East...Dragons to the South...War is coming, but the true enemy lies in the wild North. There’s also a pretty bird locked in a cage made of stones, ready to be devoured by falcons. The pieces are moving. _

There was also another thing to be considered. The young Queen and her sudden avoidance to public duties. Both Lord Brandon and the Lord Protector had been handling some of the appointments, especially in the early hours.

Lord Manderley’s maester had been summoned from White Harbor to Winterfell with urgency, which could only mean that something was wrong with Queen Arya. There was a sense of excitement in the court, but since no official announcement had been made northerners prefered to not give words to their suspicions.

If the suspicions were confirmed, than Melissandre was sure to expect for a visit from the Lord Protector soon. That would be no good thing since she knew Jon Snow to distrust her. Any mistake would mean her death sentence and she wasn’t ready to leave the world just yet.

She had tried to look inside the flames for positive answers to give to the Lord Protector, but without a drop of a King’s blood there was nothing to be seen but darkness.

Melissandre had no reason to love a young Queen that reeked of death and had a soul as dark as the face of the enemy, but Arya’s fate seemed to be entwined with that of Jon Snow. Without her the Lord Protector was paralyzed in his despair and nothing seemed capable of bringing him back to his senses.

Jon Snow would only be the hero he was meant to be with Arya Stark by his side. Unlike Azor Ahai - who managed to fulfill his duty once he lost Nyssa Nyssa - Jon Snow seemed incapable of putting a foot in front of the other without his little queen. If the girl died, being it from a fever of childbirth, Jon Snow would follow her soon. She had been his last thought before the dagger pierced his heart. She was the reason why he held to life.

The weather outside the castle was as harsh and unforgiven as it’s queen. Melissandre felt odd in that strange land. Unlike what happened at the wall, where she had felt her magic growing by the hour, Winterfell seemed to drain her. The Lord of Light had no power there and every northerner seemed to hold to their trees with fearsome loyalty.

She walked the distance from the castle to the godswood. She hoped one day the Lord Protector would see the need to cut those false gods down and give them to the flames. That was her heart’s true mission and Melissandre would like nothing best than to see those white trunks burning.

As she approached the white tree she realized there was someone else there. The cripple boy some dared to call the true King in The North, followed by the muscled knight who reminded her so much of Stannis.

The knight carried his hammer as he served as Lord Brandon’s personal servant. He carried the cripple boy in his wheelchair all over the land. There was rumor Lord Stark was teaching him his letters in exchange for his loyalty.

“Here I thought you hated the Old Gods.” Lord Stark said as he approached the place. There was a hint of disdain for her in those words. Nothing she hasn’t been used to so far.

“False gods will bring this place nothing but destruction in the upcoming war.” She answered. “The Queen and the Lord Protector would be wise to put this place to the torch and embrace the true faith.”

“And you would be wise to get out of the castle while we still consider it suitable to keep you alive.” Lord Stark answered in a way that reminded Melissandre of her first interaction with Queen Arya. “Jon might feel honor bound to keep you safe, but soon you’ll find out that I’m not inclined to such a thing. Neither is my sister.”

“The Lord Protector and the Queen will still have need of me.” Melissandre answered with confidence. “They will need my services very soon indeed.”

“Only if you keep feeding Jon’s fears. I’m not stupid, witch.” Brandon Stark snapped back. “I can feel you sneaking around the corridors, trying to get close to his ear. Were Jon any other sort of man you would try to seduce him with your glamour, but he is blind to your charms so you tempt him with something else. Let me guess...You’ve seen a tragic end to my sister’s life that might be spared such a tragedy if Jon would agree to answer to your god’s requests.”

That had been terribly accurate and Melissandre didn’t know how to answer to his accusations. Ser Gendry remained silent and sour in his mighty presence as he looked at her like someone waiting for one word to put her down with his hammer.

“I told him no lies. I’ve seen it in the flames. Two women will carry his children, only one of them will live to see it grow to adulthood and become the mightiest beasts in the world.” Melissandre replied.

“And Jon looks at my sister and see only his own dead mother in a bloody bed.” Brandon pointed. “You are a poisonous creature. You have no place in Winterfell.”

“What will you do about it? You are not the King in The North. You have no power here.” Melissandre defied the boy as she felt absolutely confident in her powers, even if she could tell that Lord Brandon was more than her eyes could see.

He said nothing for a while, but his eyes suddenly were blank as the wind around them changed drastically. Ravens emerged from the depth of the woods and flew over her head forming an angry dark cloud.

“As long as the crypts and the roots of the heart tree remain intact, Winterfell will stand!” The echo of Brandon Stark’s voice surrounded her. “Your fire god has no power here!”

“We shall see that.” Melissandre answered before turning her back and walking away.

She walked as fast as she could without turning it into a run. To neglect the boy’s power had been a mistake. Melissandre had no idea of what the young man had seen, but whoever he was ordinary wasn’t a word that would ever describe Brandon Stark.

It seemed that she had won yet another enemy and not one she should think lightly about, especially not when her powers seemed to be weakened in the presence of those sinful gods Lord Stark was so fond of.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	49. Gendry

Even though he hated to see Arya from a distance, walking and commanding men as she seemed to have been born to do, Gendry found the life and work at Winterfell to be of his liking. It was the Black Bastard what truly distressed him.

Jon Snow was never far from his Queen. His cold eyes followed Arya in an almost obsessive way as if he feared she would vanish. Some said he had come back from the dead given to sorcery and dark magic. Those things apparently had a costly price and Jon was paying it with his sanity.

Black Fish didn’t like the man either, but he respected a good soldier and at least he considered Jon Snow  as such. The defenses of Winterfell had been reinforced and to the old man’s surprise even girls would be allowed to joining the northern army. His questions about it had been put to rest once her saw the bunch of Mormont women in the courtyard knocking down every wildling soldier they could get their hands at. The Queen wished the wildlings to be trained in Westerosy style of battle along with military tactics and that was precisely what those women were doing.

They had even spotted Arya training in the early lights of day. She was all dressed in male clothes and swaying that little sword of hers as graciously as a swan flying over a river. Ser Brynden was surprised to witness his niece in all her talent. Quiet, disciplined, elegant...Those had been the words the old man used to describe her and Gendry couldn’t help agreeing with him.

Once Brandon Stark arrived things got a bit different in the castle.

Arya trusted no one to protect and help her brother except for Jeyne and Gendry. That was a bit of a surprise and soon The Bull found himself serving as Lord Stark sworn shield or something like that. Black Fish thought it to be a great honor and a good opportunity for someone like Gendry, so he accepted the Queen’s offer.

It was an easy enough task and Arya had rewarded him with his own house by the forge and silver. Lord Stark was a quiet lad and very kind to him. He had little company most of the time, being the Reeds an exception.

Gendry could tell Lord Stark to be particularly fond of Lady Meera Reed. She would often seat near him a talk softly. A pretty girl with a gentle smile and a fierce loyalty. Northern ladies seemed to be most the same to Gendry. Pragmatic, stubborn and brave. Lady Meera was no exception to that and soon Gendry found himself giving the boy some advices.

In return Lord Stark was teaching him how to read and write, which was probably more valuable than any silver the Queen might give him. Gendry was grateful and half pleased with his lot in life, but seeing Arya from a safe distance and out of his reach was still the sort of pain he had to get used to.

“You are wasting your time thinking about her.” Brandon said to him once. “My sister might have problems dealing with the past, but the truth is that she never loved anyone else as she loves Jon.”

“Does my lord think it to be normal? He is her brother as much as you are.” Gendry argued in a stubborn tone as he tried to draw his name in a piece of parchment.

“No, I don’t. I also believe there’s a reason behind it. Maybe they are meant to correct history. Maybe Jon will be a better King than his father could have been, or maybe it will be my sister the one to guide us through dark times. I can’t deny they complete each other like two halfs of the same whole.” Brandon answered calmly. “You too have a part to play. I’ve seen it. We should expect great things from you, Ser.”

“I’m just a stupid bastard from Flea Bottom. Nothing especial could ever come from this thick head.” Gendry insisted.

“That’s not true. You have a good heart and more wit than you think. I would like to advise you about something though. Stay away from the Red Woman as much as you can.” Brandon warned him with a certain amount of kindness to his voice. “I don’t trust her and I fear she might try to hurt both you and my sister to get to Jon’s good graces. She is a leech. A dangerous one at that.”

“I didn’t intend to get near her. She gives me chills anyway.” He answered as a matter of fact.

It was only a couple of days later that Gendry got a chance to see how strange and vicious that woman could be. One world from Lord Stark and Gendry would hammered her down in front of the heart tree.

Although Brandon Stark looked rail and kind most of the time, Gendry could witness just how powerful and vicious he could be when triggered and that woman had touched a sore spot. A prophecy of a dreadful sort that was and Gendry couldn’t see anything good coming out of those words.

Once she ran away from Lord Stark Gendry realized what it truly meant. Jon Snow would betray the Queen and if Arya carried his child that could mean death to her. A wave of panic took him all of a sudden and Gendry felt honor bound to tell the Queen about those words.

“You will never mention what you’ve heard here to my sister. Do you understand?” Lord Brandon questioned in ice cold tone.

“With all due respect, I disagree. The Queen must know about it.” Gendry insisted in a vigorous tone.

“Why? So her marriage would be poisoned with fear and distrust? Arya must never know about it. Jon is loyal to her and I doubt he would ever betray her in such a way. As for children...She might be with child already. Would you really have me terrifying her with prophecies about her death in childbirth? I won’t do this and my sister is first and foremost my mother’s daughter. Catelyn Stark bore her lord husband five healthy children and there’s no reason for me to believe my sister to be incapable of doing the same.”

“I would rather give her the right to know what sort of nasty conspiracy is going on under her roof. This woman should be thrown out of here.” Gendry said it between his clenched teeth. “As long as I can see the damage has already been made. You are a smart man. It doesn’t take much for one to see the Black Bastard is half mad with fear. Paranoid even. It’s her doing! How long until he starts killing people or making ridiculous mistakes out of his own terror? He won’t listen to anyone else in this. The prophecy thing...It already set root within him, but at least the Queen can and should be warned.”

“Fear not, my brave friend. I’ll bring Melissandre down.” Lord Brandon tried to reassure him, but Gendry had a hard time picturing a cripple boy raging revenge over a powerful sorceress. Even if there was more to Brandon Stark than the eyes could see. “As for you...I beg you to keep your loyalty to my sister. Dark times lay ahead of us and Arya will need both your strength and friendship.”

“She will always have both, but I fear we understand loyalty in different ways.” Gendry insisted.

Lord Brandon looked at him carefully for a moment as if he was measuring Gendry or simply had seen within his eyes something worthy of his interest for the first time. A shiver ran down Gendry’s spine as Lord Stark looked at his absently.

“Funny…” Brandon pointed. “There was actually a moment...A chance, but you wasted it. You still have hope though...Even now that my sister carries another’s child inside her. You still think you can win her back somehow, no matter how. You could have given her a simpler life and maybe that could keep her content, but I fear...My sister has always been way too complicated for any man other than Jon to comprehend.”

“I know my place in this. Arya never made me any sort of promise that she hadn’t fulfilled at this point.” Gendry answered grumpily as he pulled Brandon’s chair forward.

“No...You don’t know your place and that’s probably the tragedy of all this. You are greater than you think. A diamond that has yet to be polished.” Brandon answered as a matter of fact, which served only to make Gendry to feel stupid. “You have that in common with my sister and even Jon. You too fail to see your own value, but I’m glad that I can help you with this. First with writing and reading, but we have yet to turn you into a warrior, Ser.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you'll like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	50. Arya

Her life seemed to be consumed by an endless list of duties and problems for her to deal with. As Queen she hardly had any time for her own thoughts while she had to conciliate her private life with her public role.

Preparations for winter had been made but their stock was far from ideal. There was also an army to be kept ready in case of a Lannister attack or even the enemies from wild north, as Bran and Jon liked to remind her so often. She needed allies and that was certain. Preferably the powerful kind.

Bran had advised her to seek help in the Vale and also the Stormlands. She could understand why an alliance with Robin Arryn was a viable one, but Winterfell’s relationship with the Stormlands wasn’t exactly a close one since Robert Baratheon died. She didn’t even know who was responsible to the castle at that point. Robert, Stannis and Renly were dead and as far as she could see Tommen was the heir to it.

There was no chance of Arya making alliances with Lannisters. That was pure madness. Or at least that was what she thought until the raven arrived from South bringing the most unexpected news.

Her council had been taken by surprise with good reason. She felt a bit astonished herself. Apparently the Targaryen dynasty had suffered a revival of some sort and now there were two sons of Rhaegar alive.

“It must be an impostor.” Jon said in an unimpressed tone. “We shouldn’t pay him attention.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace...This said Aegon VI must think the same about you.” Black Fish didn’t seem convinced of Jon’s parentage anymore than the rest of the North was. Her lord husband lacked the silver hair, the purple eyes and the refined and ethereal complexion of the Targaryen family. Jon was a northerner through and through, which make it easier to believe that he was indeed Ned’s bastard. If there was anything of Rhaegar in him it was very well hidden by Lyanna’s northern inheritance. “This man took the Stormlands and now there’s a dragon banner swaying at the top of their towers. He has the Golden Company with him, which is a threat worthy of our attentions.”

“I’ve never said it weren’t, Ser. Anyway this man has a claim to the Iron Throne and I don’t see how he would look kindly at us when I have a claim as well.” Jon replied with caution. There was tension between him and Black Fish but Arya would rather not interfere. Her uncle was just being proud while Jon acted as her jealous husband.

“You are married to the Queen in The North and you are our Lord Protector. He should look kindly at us. We can give him a very desirable alliance and still keep the North independent.” Arya replied. “If he is reasonable or at least well counseled, he would sooner have us as friends and family than as enemies. I think we should invite him here, or at least send an envoy.”

“I doubt a man such as this would accept an invitation, but I’m happy to see that Your Grace are not considering making the journey to the Stormlands.” Jon pointed with caution and relief.

“That’s because I should travel to Vale first.” Arya handed him yet another piece of parchment with the sigil of house Arryn along with another that was unknown to him. “My cousin invites us to a tournament.”

“A tournament?” The same question came from different places inside the council room, but Jon’s voice was undoubtedly the most distressed one.

“I do hate to repeat myself. Yes, a tournament.” The Queen insisted. “My dearest cousin invites us to celebrate...Whatever it is he is celebrating and I find it hard to ignore such a kind display of politeness when we are in great need of friends. It will happen in a month and I believe we should attend.”

“I do not presume to correct or contradict you, but would this be a reasonable decision given your current condition, Your Grace?” It was Reed who asked and his voice seemed to echoes the thoughts of every member inside that room.

“Her Grace is with child, Reed; not sick.” Alysanne answered in her behalf. Her own belly had started to show, but Lady Mormont tried to conceal it with a heavy cloak made of bear fur. “If Her Grace feels strong enough there  should be no problem. Better now than by the end of it anyway.”

“Thank you, Lady Mormont.” Arya thanked the unexpected support with a gentle smile. “I feel quite strong and ready to go. Preparations should be made already so we can depart in the earlier opportunity.”

“Who should hold the North while Your Grace is gone?” Black Fish asked cautiously.

“Brandon, of course.” The answer came as fast as an arrow. “There must always be a Stark at WInterfell and my brother is quite capable of taking care of this place during my absence.”

“What about me, my queen?” Jon asked carefully.

“You will come with me. I thought you wouldn’t have it anyother way.” She smirked at him, but Jon didn’t seem amused or slightly inclined to smile at the news.

“I’m glad Your Grace realized that much.” He replied oddly. There would be yet another quarrel between them. It was becoming some sort of a habit since the maester confirmed that she was with child.

“I guess this would be all for the moment. Lord Reed, I want you to send an envoy with our invitation to this  said Aegon. I would like my brother-in-law to be here as soon as I’m back from the Vale.”

Arya left the room with Jon following her closely like a shadow. They didn’t say a word to each other until they reached the safety of their chambers. In another time they wouldn’t have minded being outspoken and disagreeing with each other in public, but now things were more delicate than that. As long as she had a crown on the top of her head, Arya would no longer be free to do as she pleased.

Jon closed the door behind them and she could hear his thoughts from a distance even if he had chosen to remain quiet until she addressed the problem.

“I’ll be fine.” Arya said while turning to look at him. “You don’t have to worry like this.”

“I just think this is hardly the time for adventures in the Vale. You should stay here until the child is born.” Jon answered sourly.

“So you can lock me up inside this room for the next months? This won’t happen.” Arya insisted as she sat on their bed. “I know you are worried, but this isn’t some frivolous trip. This tournament could mean military support and even trade during winter.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t make me any less concerned about you and the child.” Jon sighed. “There is also this thing about Aegon.”

“What about it?” Arya asked out of confusion.

“Aren’t you disappointed that I’m not the rightful heir to The Iron Throne?” Jon asked cautiously. “I promised to make you my queen after all. You wanted me to be king, remember?”

“I wanted to be with you. If I had to make you king to have you for myself, I would have burned this world down until so you could had your crown.” Arya answered fiercely. “Aegon can have the Iron Throne for all I care. The North is enough for me, but maybe you are disappointed.”

“I really don’t know what to think.” Jon seemed frustrated. “Maybe if I were King I wouldn’t feel so inferior in relation to you right now.”

“I thought you didn’t want a crown.” Arya was honestly confused at that.

“I don’t, but it would at least give me some agency when my wife decides to do something reckless.” He insisted.

“As if anything thing or anyone would ever stop me from doing what I must in order to protect our people.” She snapped back. “Trying to tame me was never a good idea. I thought you knew that.”

“I do know that. I have always been indulgent with your stubbornness, but this is not the only reason why theses news unsettle me. What if Aegon, impostor or not, names us as his enemies? We can’t afford fighting against the Golden Company.” Jon insisted sharply.

“And we won’t fight them! As far as we know, this said Aegon is childless. That makes you his heir. A number of things can happen and you might still become King of the Seven Kingdoms, but right now the important thing is to earn his trust and make sure he will see us as family. You may have to pledge him some oath, or we can have a treaty settling the terms of our cooperation, but there’s no reason for us to ignore him as a potential ally.”

“There’s no reason for us to ignore him as a potential enemy either.” His voice reached a higher tone as he looked at her with exasperation.

“Do you want me to crown you King in The North?” Arya finally asked out of anger.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I would never attempt to usurp you.” He seemed to understand the point of her question. “I am your advisor though. I’m trying to say that we should consider all the possibilities.”

“I am considering them, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll always do as you think it’s best. I guess you finally understood how difficult it is to be married to someone you can’t command and the root of this constant arguments is that you dislike the idea of being the Queen’s husband, but not a King.”

“Now you are being unfair.” His voice came out tainted with shame and embarrassment. “I’ve been loyal to you and I believe you are the best ruler we could have right now, but Arya...You are being reckless with both your health and your position in which concerns this Aegon!”

“I’ll invite this brother of yours to our home. We will feast him and treat him as family so he will have no cause to think of us as anything but supporters. We keep the North independent, but in good terms with the man that might become the next King in the Iron Throne. This would make Cersei shiver in her bed at night and give her nightmares. This would give us a powerful ally in case everything you said about the Other and their plans to attack us is true. I have no quarrel with this Targaryen pretender as long as we can stay on the same side. In my place you would think the same, the only difference is that you would be able to turn your back at your unborn child and travel without a single thought. This is not an option for a mother so I have to go regardless to whatever opinion people have about my health or my pregnancy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it and reviews are highly appreciated.


	51. Jon

He would often wake up in the middle of the night startled over constant nightmares. The all started the same way. Arya laid in a bloodied bed with a dead child placed on top of her motionless body. Sometimes his dreams were filled with dragons flying over Winterfell and burning it to the ground while his wife and queen raised her sword in a futile attempt of stopping those beasts.

Once he was awaken and recovering from yet another panic attack Jon would look at Arya trying to get as much sleep as her own nightmares allowed. Neither of them was familiar with peace since they first left Winterfell, but at least Arya got more easily tired given her daily routine. Maybe the pregnancy was also weighing on her as well and he couldn’t say that he disliked the idea of Arya slowing down a bit so she could take care of herself.

He rose  from bed and had a cup of wine before getting out of the room. They would depart from Winterfell in a couple of days and there would be some entertainment to his life again. He couldn’t stop thinking about how dreadful that journey could turn to be if anything happened to Arya.

That thought alone could keep him awake for several nights to the point that the idea that he could actually become a father didn’t matter. That child felt like a lie. A poisoned gift from the gods. His fear of losing Arya made it impossible for him to love his own unborn child. That made of him a cruel husband and a poor excuse of a child. He hasn’t been suited to love and yet he loved Arya to the point of going mad with such sickening feeling.

Jon roamed the dark and cold halls aimlessly for a while until he found himself in the crypts. He had expected to be alone there, without nothing but the silence of the Kings of Winter to keep him company. What he found was Bran sitting in his chair by Lyanna’s statue as if he was expecting Jon to arrive.

It was a good sight. Something that made his heart warm a bit. Even if they were no longer close as they had been before the war, Bran remained in the center of that family working as a lighthouse. Whenever things were just too dark to deal with, his serenity and odd wiseness would light the way for civilized conversation.

“I had this feeling that I would find you here.” Bran said as he approached quietly. “Your lady mother was really beautiful and a curious character in some ways.”

“How could you know?” Jon asked with a hint of humor as he sat on a closed toomb. Bran smirked at him in a wicked way.

“I know a great deal of things.” He answered in a mysterious way. Jon was aware that Bran had acquired some sort of deep and strange power. Something that gave him a knowledge that was beyond his age, but he wouldn’t speak of it in details. There was just this general idea that Brandon Stark had eyes all over the land.  _ How many eyes does he have? A thousand eyes and one. _ The old saying came to him like an omen. “She really looked like Arya. It was almost like  watching one of our countless games in the godswood. She loved you fiercely even when her life turned into a tragedy.”

“Have you seen Rhaegar as well? Was it love what brought such a tragedy to her life, or he was truly a monster?” Jon asked sadly.

“Even a monster believes himself the hero of his own story. I saw him briefly. He seemed to be dazzled by her, or better yet, by the precious things she could give him. He wanted another child and Lyanna had a pleasant face to look upon and a fierce nature. Any man would be blind to ignore such a charming creature and it would be difficult to mistake an infatuation for love, especially when you had been bound for someone you never chose. He was handsome too and sounded like a perfect way out of a marriage to Robert Baratheon.” Bran said calmly. “They were what they were. Two reckless beings that never realized the extension of their actions before it was too late. You were loved though. Very much loved.”

“I guess this is a good thing. I had a family here. A good one, with loving siblings and a man to call father even if Lady Stark reminded me as often as possible that I wasn’t welcome.” Jon answered with a pang in his heart. “Rhaegar is just a name I learned in books and songs and he took me everything. First my mother and then the family I found in Winterfell. I have no place in this world thanks to him.”

“You are still my brother. The law of the land says so, now that you married my sister. Don’t be so harsh on yourself and don’t try to exclude us from your life like this. You are my father’s son as much as I am.”

“Thank you, Bran. It’s really good to hear that.” He sighed without realizing that he had tears to his eyes.

“It pains me to see you like this, Jon.” Bran said cautiously. “There’s so much fear in you. Such a despair that it could have you paralyzed at any moment now. What is it that infects you with such a poison? Talk to me before it kills you and everything you hold dear.”

“I’m not given to superstitious thoughts or anything like this, but...There is this thing. This asphyxiating sensation that takes me all of a sudden whenever a thought crosses my mind. I’m terrified of it. I can’t imagine waking just to find my bed empty and her body resting in this place with only a cold statue to remind me of her face.” The tears rolled over his face as he looked at Lyanna with desolation. “It feels like Arya is the only thing connecting me with the world and my own humanity. If I lose her...I’ll be nothing or worse. I’ll turn into some sort of monster with nothing but a black heart and a desire for violence.”

“That’s because Arya was your last thought. This need to protect her or save her from some kind of invisible enemy was what brought your soul back, but your part in this war is much bigger than that.” Bran said calmly. “Fear not Jon for the gods have given you a bride made of ice and steel. She will hold to the love she bares for you fiercely.”

“Even someone as formidable as Arya could succumb to a thing as natural and ordinary as childbirth.” Jon insisted.

“Two women will carry your children, but only one of them will live to see them becoming the mightiest beasts in the world…” Brandon said those words in a hollow tone and Jon’s blood froze in his veins.

“How do you know this?” Jon asked.

“I told you. I know a great deal of things.” Bran answered with a smirk. “The priestess told me about it briefly once she tried to convince me that you should burn the godswood. That woman is dangerous and you should know best than to believe her poisonous words.”

“Even if they are lies...Arya is too young and probably too frail to give birth. That would kill her as it killed my mother and I would have to live with the idea that I killed the only woman I loved.” Jon argued stubbornly.

“Or she could give you a bunch of noisy children like my mother gave to my father. You can’t never know for sure until the time has come and for all I can see my sister will be a fierce mother.” Bran tried to calm him as Arya had tried countless times before. “Besides...I can’t imagine you betraying her with another woman.”

“I would never do such a thing.” He agreed.

“Than why you fear so much and trust the words of a priestess that wants for nothing but power? It wasn’t the Red God who brought you back. This war belongs to the old gods. You belong to the old gods just like my sister and it will be your blood and hers to rule the North for the ages to come.”

“I would sell my soul to any god who promised me she will survive...That we will grow old together, with a dozen of children and grandchildren surrounding us.” Jon answered with strange serenity.

“You just have to wait and see.” Bran’s voice was smooth and gentle. It soothed his worries to the point of making him sleepy. “About the Vale though...Be careful. Many answers you will find there, but also many enemies. Littlefinger is not to be trusted. Also...Beware of the young lady. She might be in great danger, but she is blind to the seriousness of her actions and how they have tied her to her tutor.”

“I would really appreciate if you would speak plainly.” Jon rolled his eyes at it.

“Just don’t give her identity away so soon. She needs to be in disguise for a while or else she will put all of you in danger.” Bran insisted. “The Vale will come to our aid when the time comes, but first you must rescue the maid in distress.”

“I see you fancy yourself some sort of wizard. Sam would like you a great deal.” Jon pointed with a hint of amusement.

“Oh I liked him as well. I found him once at the Wall. A coward at first, but wish such loyalty to his heart that I believe he would have killed a whole army of Others to protect those he love. “

“You’ll tell me his story later. I’m too sleepy for it.” Jon smiled at him before helping Bran back to his chambers.

In two days time the horses and servants were ready for their long journey to the Vale and Jon observed Arya’s back as she took the lead all wrapped in furs. Brandon waved goodbye at them and once more they had to leave the safety of their home and this time it was even more difficult to do so. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now things will be more dynamic with the royal couple finally venturing on a diplomatic mission and with great chances of finding yet another Stark in distress at the Vale.  
> I know things have been slow, but I needed Arya to stabilize her authority as Queen in The North and also to reinforce the fact that Jon isn't being himself or even reasonable given to his fears. Many thing will happen in the following chapters and I hope you'll like it.  
> I'm particularly curious about Aegon Targaryen and how the Targaryen pretender will react not only to the existence of his brother, but also the Queen in The North who reminds everyone of Lyanna Stark.  
> I hope you'll like it and reviews are appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, after the last episode and since I can't get over the fact the D&D are giving Arya's arc to another character, every fucking thing I ever wrote but never published, is coming out during this week. This one is a long fic and I have been storing several chapters of it for a year now. I hope you like it guys!


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